


A Bite of the Apple

by RockSaltAndRoll



Series: Take a Picture [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Disabled Steve, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, New Relationship, Romance, Sequel, teen!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltAndRoll/pseuds/RockSaltAndRoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to When In Rome</p><p>It's been six weeks since their whirlwind 24 hour romance in Rome and Steve think's he's definitely fucked up. That is until Bucky calls him out of the blue and makes a request Steve can't refuse.</p><p>The only problem is, it's really tough to be an impoverished photojournalist dating the son of the President, and Bucky's family are determined to make Steve jump through all kinds of hoops. This would also be so much easier if his new boyfriend wasn't so much of a damn cocktease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to raisedinthunder, shortsighted-owl, and cabloom for allowing me to shout random ideas at them at all times of the day, and for shouting back!
> 
> This fic is much better read after When In Rome otherwise you're going to find it a little tough to understand what's going on. I mean, I guess you CAN read it on it's own, but I wouldn't recommend it. 
> 
> Also, to anyone who has read The President's Son - my beloved Helen is back!!!!

Bucky never realised just how much he missed being in a family until they were all together again. It was tough being the child of a politician and even tougher being the offspring of two – every so often they spent a holiday together or a rare weekend, but mostly his parents had prioritised work over family and left the raising of their children to paid professionals.

That wasn’t to say Rebecca and Bucky weren’t loved; it was just when both of your parents had spent the last eleven years running the entire country, it was a little hard to get the time with their kids. So this made a week night dinner together seem all the better.

His mother was making her infamous lamb tagine with cous cous, his father setting the dining table for them all while Bucky picked at a bowl of grapes as he sat on the kitchen counter; his younger sister, pouring herself a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge. It was all very domestic. They could almost have been a normal family.

“So...do you think I can go stay with Aunt Helen in Manhattan?” Bucky asked when there was a lull in the conversation, popping a large red grape into his mouth.

His mother stopped chopping fresh coriander. His father looked up from the cutlery.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” George Barnes asked, quietly.

Bucky had been running this scenario through his head for days and had anticipated this. He had a reply ready.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “I finished all my schooling about six months ago, so technically my summer vacation started in March. On top of that, Washington is driving me crazy. It’s like being cooped up in a fish bowl full of sharks.”

His mother smiled and resumed finely chopping her herbs.

Bucky and his father had returned from Rome three weeks ago, and his life was going through a very large overhaul. Alexander Pierce had been the first thing to go. His parents had hired the man when Bucky got out of rehab and his job had been to give Bucky’s life some structure and to get him where he needed to be on time. He had scheduled psych appointments, gym sessions, school work, socialising with a handful of very select friends, and everything else in Bucky’s life, knowing exactly what he was doing at any given moment and when.

Now that Bucky was eighteen and due to start college soon, his parents had decided that Bucky needed to start running his own life. Going missing for twenty-four hours in Rome had caused a huge dilemma for Mr and Mrs Barnes – on the one hand, they had realised that they’d been very strict with Bucky in his recovery and should possibly have allowed him more responsibility a little earlier on. On the other hand, he’d run away and scared the shit out of everybody, leading his father to believe he’d been kidnapped and had half of Italy’s secret service out searching for him. Hence, his parents would much rather Bucky regain his freedom right under their noses.

“And Manhattan is better because...?”

“It’s home,” replied Bucky. “It’s a change of scene; it’s less political; you have less chance of the press following me to Starbucks and making Coulson fight them off.”

Phil Coulson was Brock Rumlow’s replacement. Bucky and Rumlow had never really got on with each other, and their relationship was completely irreconcilable after Bucky kneed the man in the balls. His mother had just thought it best to assign him a new agent.

“That’s a good point,” Rebecca piped up from where she’d been listening in by the refrigerator. “And you _are_ letting me go stay with friends in the Hamptons this summer.”

“See?” Bucky said, gesturing to his sister. “You’re letting Rebecca stay with friends in the Hamptons but don’t want me staying with Aunt Helen?”

“Your Aunt Helen is a menace,” his father muttered.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Either way, you’re trusting your sixteen year old daughter with her friends in _the Hamptons_ , but not your eighteen year old son in your sister’s house?“

"Our sixteen year old daughter didn’t OD on cocaine and have an affair with her English teacher.”

“That you know of,” Bucky replied innocently.

Across the kitchen, Rebecca stared at him in horror.

“Traitor!” she hissed.

He bit his lip guiltily.

“Sorry, Bex – didn’t mean to inadvertently call you a slut and a junkie like your dear old big brother, but I’m trying to get a point across here.”

His mother chuckled and scooped up her herbs, depositing them into the bowl of cous cous on the bench and wiping her hands clean on a cloth.

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” she said, tucking a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. “And I agree that DC is probably not the best place for you. Maybe a little time in New York would be good.”

His father gave his mother a doubtful glance.

“Please?” Bucky added, looking as sweet as he could.

George Barnes sighed heavily.

“Well, it’s not like I run the country anymore – that’s your mother’s job and I guess I can’t argue with the President of the United States, so if she says you can stay with your Aunt Helen, then you can stay with your Aunt Helen. I’m sure she’d love to have you.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asked, taken aback.

He couldn’t believe he actually did it. He’d expected the discussion to go on for days.

“Seriously,” his father replied. “But this is us trusting you. You’re eighteen now – you want to be treated like an adult, you prove you can handle things like an adult.”

“I promise,” he replied, seriously.

George Barnes still looked somewhat unconvinced as they sat down to dinner, but Bucky’s mother was smiling at him which gave Bucky a lot of hope. He’d probably have to buy Rebecca a Chanel purse to get her to even consider forgiving him for that comment, but it had been worth it.

 

****

 

Excited at the prospect of getting the hell out of Washington DC, Bucky called up his best friend and Manhattan resident to give the good news.

“Hey, Boozer,” he said as soon as the face time connected.

“Hey Junkie!” was the bright reply from a girl with copper hair and green eyes who beamed at him from a room wallpapered in purple and gold.

Bucky had met Natalia Romanova in rehab three years previously. The daughter of a Russian diplomat and an American socialite, Nat’s poison had obviously been vodka and after drinking two large bottles of the stuff and having to get her stomach pumped, her parents had checked her into the same facility as Bucky. The two had quickly become inseparable and their friendship had lasted beyond the rehab facility. Natasha, as Bucky was allowed to call her, was the one person in the world he told everything to.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked him.

Bucky grinned and lay down on his bed, supporting himself on his elbows and propping the phone up on a pillow.

“I just wanted to inform you that I’ll be coming up to Manhattan next week,” Bucky told her. “I somehow managed to convince my parents to let me stay with my aunt.”

Natasha let out a small squeal of delight.

“I’m so happy you said that because I’m bored as hell at my internship and I swear to hell that I need somebody I can meet for lunch and have a good old bitch to. Your aunt though?”

“I thought you liked Aunt Helen?”

“I do!” Natasha enthused. “She’s fucking hilarious but she’s also an alcoholic.”

“I’ll get her to make only virgin cosmos if you come over,” Bucky reassured her. “She might be a boozer, but she’s not ever going to jeopardise your sobriety.”

“Excellent,” Nat replied.

Bucky’s Aunt Helen was the type of lady who drank dirty martinis for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She was an alcoholic, but she functioned very well despite it which was more than most did.  

“So,” Nat continued as she sat cross-legged on her bed. “Have you given any more thought of what to do about your secret boyfriend?”

“He’s not a secret boyfriend,” replied Bucky quietly, his eyes darting to his closed door.

Of course he had told her about Steve – he had been bursting to tell somebody the story and Natasha was the only person he trusted with it. His parents only knew a small portion of it – that Bucky had passed out due to the sedative his doctor had given him and he’d been taken in by a man who lived locally and was shown around Rome for his birthday before being dropped back at the embassy. He’d given them no names and he certainly had never mentioned Steve or Sam’s occupations.

He had however told his best friend absolutely everything.

“You’re keeping him from your family,” Nat said. “He’s your secret boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend! We’ve barely communicated since I left him on the bank of the Tiber.”

For the first two weeks, Bucky hadn’t sent Steve a thing. Besides finishing the tour of Europe with his father, Bucky had definitely still been mad with Steve. Even though they had talked it out, he still felt betrayed and hurt, and needed to get his own head right. After two weeks, the ache in Bucky’s chest still hadn’t faded and he’d known he was still hung up on Steve Rogers, so he’d reached out.

They faced a great deal of issues though – first they had the minor problem of the time difference; Rome being many hours ahead of DC made it difficult to have a time slot where they would both be free to talk. This might have been the most complicated of the issues had Bucky not been the son of the President. Bucky feared that he was still being monitored, either by the NSA or by the White House, and a lot of communication with Steve would arouse suspicion. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to find out that Steve was a photographer; and even less he wanted them to find out what Steve had almost done with the photos he’d taken of Bucky in Rome. He was sure to never hear from Steve again if that information got to them.

He’d been racking his brains to find a legitimate way of communicating before Steve lost interest, but so far he was coming up empty. Perhaps he could convince his aunt to take him on a brief trip to Rome?

“He knows you like him, right?” Natasha asked, frowning.

“Yeah, it was kinda obvious.”

Her mouth twisted and she gently scratched her chin.

“I’ll think of something,” she replied. “You could always just send a text and tell him to get his ass over here.”

Bucky grinned.

“There’s always that.”

 

****

 

It should have been getting warm in the middle of April, but currently the weather was doing a better job of matching Steve Rogers’ mood – cold, wet, and generally miserable – than concentrating on being Spring. He sat under the blue and white striped canopy of Rocca’s, watching the torrential rain hammer on the tarmac while he blotted out the sound with music blasting through his earphones from his phone, his cold coffee and glass of liqueur both sitting untouched on the table.

It had been six weeks since that amazing day with Bucky and Steve was more than a little confused and frustrated.

The first two weeks had been radio silence. Steve had been expecting that – Bucky had to finish up his time in Europe and go home, and then there was the fact that Steve had utterly fucked up and Bucky was taking the time to be mad at him. He’d received the first message as he was waking up one morning: a snapshot of Bucky, lit by the soft orange glow of a bedroom lamp and his dark hair looking almost black against the white of the pillowcase, the caption ‘are you missing me?’ underneath it.

Steve had almost dropped his phone in surprise. If Bucky had ever contacted him again, Steve thought it would’ve been a phone call or a text message instead of a picture of him in bed wearing not much else but a playful smirk. He’d received three more picture messages from Bucky over the next few weeks, but nothing else. Every time Steve tried to talk to him, Bucky sent back a short message to tell him that he couldn’t talk. He’d even tried calling Bucky after the second picture message but the call had been declined after the second ring. Steve had been left mystified.

The truth was, he was miserable with the whole situation. He didn’t even understand why he’d first thought they could work something out – an impoverished photojournalist and the eighteen year old son of the President of the United States. It had been doomed to failure from the start and Steve was trying to talk himself into letting go, but then he’d look at the picture Bucky had taken of them on that night. Steve remembered how he’d felt; like Bucky was the first light that had come into his life in a really long time, and he realised that he couldn’t let him go. At least not yet.

Steve jumped as his earphones were suddenly yanked unceremoniously out of his ears, catching on the shells and making them sting.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Steve yelled in shock, hands reaching to grab the earphones that were now being dangled in front of his face by Sam Wilson.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Sam said, dropping the earphones onto the table and sitting down next to Steve. “Moping as usual. Or is that pining?”

“I’m not pining,” Steve groused.

Sam scoffed and shook his umbrella gently on the ground before laying it at his feet.

“Steve, I consider us to be good friends so I’m going to be honest with you. You’ve been sitting around like misery on a stick for the past five weeks, and it’s not because you passed up on a story that would have paid about ten grand. You keep staring at those pictures on your phone like a lovesick puppy...just do yourself a favour man and call the kid.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up for a second, then he sighed.

“I tried that,” he replied. “He won’t pick up. He won’t talk over text. Short of getting a flight back to the States and tracking him down, I don’t know what else to do.”

Sam raised an eyebrow as he reached over and picked up Steve’s abandoned glass of limoncello.

“So why don’t you try that?”

Steve gave him a withering look.

“Are you gonna pay for my flight? Because I know I sure don’t have that kind of money just lying around. I can barely afford rent on my apartment.”

Sam blinked serenely at him and Steve knew what his friend was thinking – he wouldn’t be living in poverty if he’d just sold those photographs of the President’s son to SHIELD.

They could have done a good story, only using the photos that put Bucky in a good light...but even that would have been a betrayal of trust. Steve didn’t regret telling Bucky the truth but it still didn’t stop him from wondering what it would have been like to live comfortably for a while. Sam was a good person, despite his insistence to the contrary. It was just this job that got to people, had them questioning themselves and doubting their morals for the sake of a good story. Steve was just glad that he’d met Bucky and had things put back into perspective.

“Well,” sighed Sam, sitting back and raising the glass of liqueur to his lips. “If I were you, I’d use some contacts to find out what he’s up to and where he is, and then use that to your advantage. But you’re not me - you’re a wuss.”

Steve grinned.

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.”

“I’m just sick of seeing you so damn miserable,” Sam laughed. “It’s been over a month and you only knew the kid for a day. Either do something proactive or let it go. There are plenty of people out there who would be very happy to get a piece of Steve Rogers.”

Steve smiled at him and reached for his coffee. If only Bucky Barnes was so easy to forget.

 

****

 

Steve practically crashed through the door of his apartment, dripping wet and with a belly full of breakfast – waffles and bacon and syrup and good strong coffee from a little cafe ran by two British-Italians who appreciated that some people liked a decent hot breakfast once in a while. The door always swelled in the wet weather and had a habit of sticking. The fact that he was slippery as an eel right now just made the task more difficult as he couldn’t get a good grip.

Steve was soaked to the skin and he hastily stripped out of his clothes, carrying them through to the bathroom so he could hang them to dry. His chest began to ache unexpectedly as he suddenly remembered the night he and Bucky jumped into the river to get away from the police – they’d come back to Steve’s apartment and hung their wet clothes up to dry; Bucky had borrowed a shirt to wear.

Sighing, Steve padded through his apartment and opened his closet, taking out the shirt in question and burying his face into it. Bucky’s scent still clung to it, although it was faint and would probably be lost soon. Steve marvelled that he even remembered what Bucky smelled like at all considering the limited amount of time they’d spent together. Carefully, Steve folded the shirt back up and placed it back on the shelf before dragging out his old, almost threadbare sweats and t-shirt to laze around in.

It was only the early evening, but Steve felt tired right down to his bones. He’d thought that moving to Italy would be a good move; that he’d get to photograph more interesting things and seize opportunities that came to him. Instead, Steve was scraping a living picking up whatever available assignments SHIELD had for him, none of which paid a hell of a lot. He missed his friends, he missed his mother, and worst of all, he missed a kid he barely knew. Steve wanted to go home.

He jumped slightly as his phone buzzed on the couch next to him, and Steve frowned as he looked at the number he didn’t recognise on the display – international call, US dialling code.

“Hello?”

Steve’s heart almost leapt into his throat when he heard the voice on the other end, soft and sleepy.

“Steve?”

“Bucky?”

He looked at his watch – it was a little after 10am in Rome which meant that is most have been about four in the morning on the East Coast, give or take an hour. No wonder Bucky sounded so sleepy.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” breathed Bucky. “I just missed hearing your voice.”

Steve smiled to himself, a spark of warmth igniting in his chest.

“So you decided to call me at 4am?”

“Is that what time it is?” murmured Bucky with mild surprise. “I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve replied softly.

For a good few weeks now, Steve Rogers had tossed and turned in his bed, often getting up and taking a walk in the middle of the night in an attempt to tire himself out. None of it had worked.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked. “You miss me?”

“You have no idea,” Steve replied.

There was a second’s pause on the line, and then:

“Come over?”

“What?” Steve laughed, surprised.

“Come over,” repeated Bucky. “Nobody is home.”

Alone in his apartment, Steve grinned and shook his head.

“I find it hard to believe that nobody is home at the White House.”

“I’m not in the White House,” Bucky murmured. “I’m in Manhattan, and I’m alone. So come over?”

Steve’s heart began to pick up pace as his brain processed the information.

“You’re asking me to get on a plane to come and see you, right now?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled in a small, sleepy voice. “Miss ya...”

“Are you drunk?” Steve asked, frowning.

Bucky huffed softly.

“I don’t drink,” he replied.

Steve tipped his head back and looked at his ceiling. There was a crack in the plaster running almost the whole length of his apartment and it was flaking at the edges. He stared at it for a full five seconds, as he attempted to think.

“Steve...?”

He’d never had a booty call from the other side of the world before, and god damn it, he was sorely tempted.

“Stevie?”

Bucky sounded amazing on the other end of the phone – voice heavy on the edge of sleep, slow and soft and almost seductive. Steve bit his lip. He was also broke as shit.

“Steve...”

“Go to sleep, Bucky,” he said, gently.

“I can’t sleep. Come be my teddy bear?”

“Oh Christ...” Steve muttered, running his free hand over his face. “G’night, Buck.”

“Steve...!”

He ended the call and put the phone back down on the couch, exhaling loudly.

Six weeks of wanting to talk to Bucky, of wanting to hear his voice, wishing he could have something more than a sporadic picture message and he ended up with a booty call. Not that he was averse to a gorgeous, cute boy calling him up and asking him to come snuggle, but it had been a surprise. He hadn’t expected that from their first phone conversation.

Steve stood up and walked to the full-length windows of his apartment, looking out over the terracotta rooftops and balcony gardens filled with potted lemon trees and herbs. He’d enjoyed living here but he wanted to go home. He’d been thinking about it when Bucky had called him and given him the best excuse to do something about it. Bucky Barnes was in Manhattan, and Steve was a Brooklyn boy – his mother and all his friends were all within a few miles of each other and now the kid he was crazy about was there too.

He dived for his phone, snatching it up and pulling up his bank account details. There was barely enough in his account to cover that month’s rent, never mind purchasing a last minute flight to New York. There was only one way he could do it, and Steve had sworn never to use that method unless it was a dire emergency. Steve’s heart obviously figured this was an emergency and his brain wasn’t putting up much of a fight.

Scrabbling in the drawer of his dresser, Steve unearthed a brand new, unused credit card and carried it back to the couch where he sat down and brought up the details for the next flight to New York on his phone. Virgin Atlantic had space in a flight leaving in a few hours – just enough time for him to back a bag and convince Sam to drive him to the airport. Taking a deep breath, he purchased his ticket and entered in the credit card details that he’d never entered anywhere before. He’d figure out the rest when he landed.

 

****

 

Bucky groaned loudly as the upbeat tune of Little Mix’s ‘How Ya Doin?’ permeated his sleep and rudely awakened him. With his face buried into his pillow, he reached out and fumbled around on top of his bed-side table until his hand closed around his phone and he put it to his ear.

“Uh?” he groaned.

“Bucky?”

“Steeb?” he replied, voice muffled by the pillow.

Bucky must have been dreaming. He groaned into his pillow again, hand loosening on his phone until he heard Steve laugh. Bucky jolted fully awake in surprise.

“I figured I’d probably end up waking you,” said Steve, cheerfully. “You did call me at a pretty ungodly hour.”

“Huh?”

Bucky sat up, digging the heel of his free hand into his eyes and rubbing away the sleep in the hope it would wake him up faster.

“This morning?” Steve continued. “When you called me?”

“Right...yeah...”

Bucky didn’t remember calling Steve at all.

“Ah jeez, don’t tell me you changed your mind about me coming over?” Steve said, his cheerful tone taking on a more nervous edge.

“No,” Bucky replied quickly. “No...of course not...”

Desperately, Bucky ran through everything he remembered from the night before. He remembered being too tired to sleep; of tossing and turning; of getting up to take a shower and thinking of Steve...always thinking about Steve. He remembered thinking about that day in Rome; about how he’d do almost anything to hear his voice again; about how they kissed and lay entwined together in Steve’s bed. Bucky figured he must have fallen asleep after that because he recalled nothing else until right now. Obviously he was wrong.

Steve laughed in relief.

“Good,” he said. “Because I just spent every last cent I have on a ticked to JFK and I’m at the airport. I’m getting on a plane in an hour to come see you.”

Bucky’s heart almost stopped.

“Now?”

“Of course, now!” Steve replied. “Bucky, are you okay?”

Bucky was definitely not okay. At some point in the last four hours he’d called Steve from his aunt’s house and told him to get on a plane immediately and he didn’t even remember doing it. Now Steve was about to board a flight and Bucky was screwed.

“Yeah,” he lied, forcing himself to sound bright. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you too, Buck.”

He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, but he was in too much of a panic to feel any flutters at the nickname he’d loved when Steve used it in Rome. Bucky hung up the call and sat in bed, staring blankly at the screen. He was in so much trouble. He didn’t even know what the hell had possessed him.

He’d been so careful to keep Steve’s existence from his parents so far. They would have done everything humanly possible to keep Steve away if they’d known what he did for a living and what he’d almost done with Bucky’s pictures. Even Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d completely forgiven Steve for lying to him, but the truth was he liked Steve too much to not forgive him at all. They had so much chemistry together and Bucky knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t at least try to make something work between them.

He’d been thinking for weeks of ways he could get Steve around his parents and hadn’t come up with a solution yet. Now he had to think of something fast because Steve would be landing at JFK in less than twelve hours, expecting to see him. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before getting out of bed and swiftly finding some clean clothes to wear before he ventured downstairs to enrol the help of the only adult he fully trusted.

His Aunt Helen was sitting at the breakfast table by the window, her usual gold-tipped Black Russian Sobranie lit in her left hand and champagne cocktail in her left as she gazed out over the view of Central Park. Helen Barnes was forty-five and carried herself like Grace Kelly with the fashion style of Audrey Hepburn. She always looked immaculate – dark hair already neatly combed and pinned up, dressed in Givenchy with Louboutins and diamonds. She turned when he walked into the room and smiled at him warmly.

“Morning sweetheart,” she said, her voice slightly raspy. “Did you sleep well?”

Bucky bit his lip and immediately Helen’s brow creased.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I was awake until the early hours of this morning and because of that, I may have done something really, really dumb.”

Helen’s dark eyes studied him and he shifted from one foot to the other. After a few seconds, she downed her drink and stubbed out her cigarette before pulling out the chair next to her.

“I think you need to tell me everything,” she replied softly.

It Bucky over an hour to tell his aunt the whole story; everything from the minute he’d left the US Embassy in Rome and met Steve, until he’d hung up his call just a short time earlier. Helen didn’t speak unless it was to clarify a point; her expression neutral.

“Are you going to say anything?” Bucky asked, sounding more like a small child than a young man.

Helen sat back in her chair and took another cigarette from the pack on the table, lighting it and taking a deep draw before answering.

“Well,” she exhaled, blowing her smoke into the air. “I understand why you didn’t tell your parents...”

Bucky sighed in relief.

“...but I don’t understand why you waited this long to tell me.”

He bit his lip again and looked at the table.

“I guess I was just afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything!” Bucky replied. “I didn’t really understand it all myself. I still don’t. I just know that what I feel for Steve is real and I couldn’t bear for anyone to take him away from me because of the photographs.”

Helen scratched her chin with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

“What did you do with them?” she asked, quietly.

“I burned them in the embassy bathroom and washed the ashes away in the bath,” Bucky mumbled.

He’d almost cried when he burned each beautiful photograph in turn, and had seriously considered keeping the one Sam had taken of him and Steve dancing on the barge. It would have been disastrous for him if he’d been caught with it though, so it had been burned along with all the others.

“The only one I have is this...”

Bucky fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans and pulled up the selfie he’d taken with Steve just before he’d gone back to the embassy – Steve’s face buried into Bucky’s hair and arms around his waist, breathing him in like he was making a memory to last forever. Helen hummed gently.

“He’s very good-looking.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed with a smile.

She handed his phone back and glanced at her watch with a small sigh.

“His flight will likely have left by now,” she stated. “So, we’re going to have to resort to damage control as best we can.”

Bucky frowned.

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him levelly.

“We’re going to have to tell your parents about Steve.”

Bucky’s stomach lurched and he felt sick and hot, his heart suddenly racing.

“No.”

Helen glanced at the ceiling and closed her eyes for a second before answering.

“Bucky, what did you think would happen?” she asked gently. “I can do a lot of things for you my darling, but I can’t keep your parents from ever discovering Steve’s identity. Your best chance for this all working out the way you want it to is to come clean – we tell them you met Steve in Rome, that you fell for each other, and you’ve been trying to find a way to be together without telling anybody because you were afraid they’d be against you having a relationship with a photographer.”

“What about the photos?”

“We won’t tell them about those,” Helen replied. “You burned them – the pictures no longer exist. It does nobody any good to tell the current and former Presidents of the United States that their son’s paramour took pictures of him with the original intent to sell to SHIELD.”

Bucky looked at the table again and took a deep breath. Aunt Helen was right of course. She usually was in situations like this. He was better off coming clean to his parents about Steve, and it would be a lot easier with her as back-up.

“What would happen?” he asked. “They won’t drag him away to DC for questioning or anything, would they?”

Helen smiled.

“No, nothing that drastic,” she replied. “I reckon they’d want to put Steve under close supervision for a few days to monitor his behaviour and glean his intentions towards you. They’ll do a background check on him, his close family, any friends or acquaintances that might wish ill towards you or the administration. They’ll probably want him to sign a lot of papers too, banning him from selling or leaking any personal pictures he might take of you.”

Bucky nodded slowly.

“That sounds fair. Will I still get to see him while this is all being done?”

“I don’t see why not,” Helen replied. “But I want to meet him first. We’ll have a car pick him up at the airport when he lands and bring him here. Then we’ll tell your parents.”

“Thanks, Aunt Helen,” Bucky said with a smile. “You’ve always had my back, ever since I was a kid. It really means a lot that you trust me.”

His aunt took a last long drag and stubbed out the end, crushing the gold tip into the ash tray.

“Just be aware, darling – I trust you, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.  Don’t forget that we’ve been here before.”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“This isn’t like the last time...”

“I’m sure it’s not,” his aunt said gently. “But he has to prove that to me. I won’t have your heart broken again if I can help it.”

He understood it – the distrust of newcomers into Bucky’s life, especially if they could be in a position to abuse his trust. Steve had gone with his conscience and told Bucky everything, gave him the photos he’d taken and poured his heart out. Never mind his family – Bucky was going to make sure Steve paid for his omission of the truth, but in his own way. The only thing he knew for certain is that he’d fallen in love with Steve that day and he was still in love with him. Even if it was only a little bit it was worth pursuing, and Steve had spent every last penny trying to get to him just because Bucky had asked him to. Maybe together they could convince everyone that Steve was genuine.

Bucky must have looked miserable, because Aunt Helen squeezed his hand and flashed him a wicked smile that was much more like her.

“Don’t fret,” she said cheerfully, her brown eyes twinkling. “I’m sure we can still find a way to have a little fun with this, my darling.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re actually insane,” Sam said as Steve threw his carry-on case into the back seat of the car and climbed in. “Insane and very stupid. Does Peggy know you’re doing this?”

“I’m going to call her from the airport,” Steve said, seatbelt clicking into place as Sam pulled away from the apartment building irritably.

Sam had almost refused to pick him up and take him to the airport. He’d ranted on the phone for a good twenty minutes, telling Steve how much of a bad idea it was to get on a plane to the US at no notice, but had finally relented when Steve resorted to begging.

“You’re gonna call her and then _she’s_ gonna call you stupid too.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I get it, Sam! I’m a giant idiot, but you said it yourself – I’ve been miserable since Bucky left. Do I look miserable to you now?”

Sam glanced at him, twisted his mouth, and turned his attention back to the road.

“No, you look giddy. It’s disgusting.”

Steve laughed at him.

“Look, Sam...this is just something I gotta do. I know I’d end up regretting it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go to him.”

“You’ll regret a whole lot more when you get your dumb ass fired,” Sam grumbled. “How long do you think you’ll have until Fury notices you’re not around, asking for assignments every ten minutes?”

Steve shrugged and looked down at the camera in his hands. As much as his heart was telling him to do this, his brain wasn’t sure if it was a great idea. He’d planned to crash on Peggy’s couch but what if she refused to let him stay? How the hell was he going to get home again? He didn’t even have money spare to pay for food and would probably end up crawling back to his ma in Brooklyn with his tail between his legs, a complete failure and a disappointment.

“It’ll be fine,” he replied. “I just need to see him, okay? We need to get some stuff figured out and then I’ll be back before Fury can miss me.”

Sam looked doubtful but he wished Steve good luck as he dropped him off at the airport.

He called Peggy from the departure lounge after checking in for his flight. Peggy Carter had been his friend since college – she was tough, she was beautiful, and she’d always had his back. Steve had lost count of the times he’d slept on Peggy’s couch when he was in a bit of a bind, but she’d never let him down yet.

His left foot bounced up and down in excitement as he listened to the phone ring twice and connect.

“Peggy!”

“Are you stupid?” was the reply in a cool, clipped English accent.

Steve’s stomach plummeted.

“I see Sam already called you...”

They didn’t know each other all that well, but Peggy and Sam had somewhat bonded a year ago when she’d visited Rome over their mutual least-favourite pastime of keeping Steve out of trouble. Steve should have known Sam would betray him.

“Yes, he did,” replied Peggy sternly.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed.

“How much did he tell you?”

“Only that you had spent every last penny you had on a one-way flight to JFK because of a booty call.”

Steve grimaced.

“It’s not like that...”

“Do you even know how you’re going to get back?” Peggy continued over him. “How are you going to eat? Where are you going to stay?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply when he heard a voice in Peggy’s background.

"Brooklyn can stay with us, English!" said Angie, Peggy’s girlfriend.

"Brooklyn can bloody sod off," Peggy grumbled.

Steve sighed.

“Please, Peg?” he begged. “It’s not a booty call, I swear. It’s important and I promise I’ll give you the whole story when I land. I know it seems impulsive and stupid...”

“Impulsive and stupid?” Peggy interrupted. “How incredibly unlike you, Steven.”

“...but I need to get on this plane.” he finished.

Peggy was silent for a few seconds before letting out an irritable sigh.

“Fine, you can stay here,” she relented.

Relief flooded Steve’s body and he sat back heavily against the uncomfortable, narrow airport chair.

“Thank you, Peggy.”

“I’m already regretting it,” Peggy muttered.

Smiling, Steve hung up the call and looked at the boarding pass in his lap. Just a few hours until he was with Bucky again and everything would be good. He could hardly wait.

Steve had a playlist all set to go with over five hours of songs that reminded him of Bucky. Part of his brain said it was a little weird to have a playlist of songs for a kid he’d really only known for twenty four hours but mostly he’d convinced himself it was romantic. Factoring in a nap, in-flight meals, and maybe a movie, Steve had enough songs to last him the whole trip.

As for the flight, it wasn’t too bad: ten hours from Rome to New York, and with the time difference it meant that the flight landed at six in the evening EST. Steve had only taken a small carry-on bag with enough clothes to last a few days, so he didn’t have to stand at baggage reclaim after breezing through passport control. His entire body was thrumming with excitement and nerves as he exited into the main airport, and he almost missed the smartly-dressed chauffeur holding a sign that said ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he announced, almost bouncing up to the driver who looked him over blankly and nodded but didn’t move.

Steve didn’t really have the time to think about the strangeness of it as he suddenly felt a strong grip on his shoulder and he spun around to come face-to-face with a rather unassuming man in his forties, wearing a dark suit.

“Mr Rogers?” he asked politely. “I’ll have to ask you to come with me, please.”

Steve could feel himself panic as the man’s grip on him tightened, surprisingly stong.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Coulson. I work for the President. Now, if you please sir?”

The President. This guy was secret service.

Steve felt bile rise to his throat as the driver relieved him of his bag and led the way silently out of the airport. Coulson kept a hand on his back – gentle, but present. Steve could have fled, but there wouldn’t have been much point. There were probably hundreds of agents with their sights trained on him.

He’d been naive to think this would go smoothly. Peggy and Sam had been right – it had been a stupid decision to make on a whim. He should have taken the time to call Bucky back and talk about it...but then he’d called Bucky before and just had his call rejected. Somehow they’d been found out, but then they would always have been found out. It would only have been a matter of time and Steve could have kicked himself for not thinking of that in the first place. Whatever they did, they would have been caught. The President probably knew about Steve and Sam’s intention to exploit her son by selling pictures of him to SHIELD. That was the only reason he could think of for his secret service escort – he was probably being driven straight to federal prison.

Steve took a deep breath and allowed himself to be led to the car, sliding into the back of a dark-windowed stretch limousine. It was too late to do anything now but accept his fate. Steve Rogers didn’t run away from things when it got tough – in fact, history had made it evident that Steve usually ran towards trouble head on. He’d fucked up and he would deal with the consequences of that. Steve only wished he could see Bucky’s face one last time before he was incarcerated.

 

****

 

It had been a long day of waiting around and Bucky had resorted to pacing the floor of his aunt’s lounge at around 5pm. Aunt Helen had sent Bucky’s secret service agent to the airport along with her driver to meet Steve, but Bucky really wished he’d insisted on tagging along. Aunt Helen had wanted to test Steve’s mettle by just sending Coulson. Bucky had thought it a little cruel but he understood it – he was a little curious himself on how Steve would react and conduct himself when approached by a secret service agent. He was sure that Steve would pass whatever test they were trying to set for him; he was a good person after all, and Bucky believed that.

Bucky couldn’t eat more than a few mouthfuls of food all day. He couldn’t concentrate on a book or settle to watch a movie. He’d even tried going for a run around Central Park but had ended up sitting on a bench for an hour, worrying about what would happen when Steve arrived. The worst part of it was that Bucky didn’t know how his parents would react. Luckily, he had Aunt Helen on his side but even she had made it clear that she didn’t rust Steve at all. It was going to be pot luck – his mother was usually more open to things than his father, but sometimes George Barnes could surprise with his reactions to things. He hoped they would be accepting.

He walked the floor, checking his watch every few minutes and trying to push down the nervous feeling that bubbled up every time he thought about what Steve would be doing. At this time, the plane would be landing; at this time he’d be going through passport control; he’d be picked up by Coulson at this time and at this time he’d be driving from the airport to Manhattan. He was a bundle of nerves by the time the elevator pinged, causing Bucky to almost jump clean out of his skin as Coulson walked out with a very confused Steve.

Bucky’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of him – tall, blond, broad-shouldered, and completely gorgeous if not slightly ruffled. He watched Steve’s sky-blue eyes widen as he spotted Bucky, and he couldn’t help but smile with relief as they moved towards each other.

“Bucky?”

“Hey, Steve...”

He was here. Steve was here and it was the most amazing feeling to see him again.

“What the hell?” Steve asked as he swept Bucky up in his arms, holding him close and tightly, nose buried into Bucky’s hair.

Bucky melted completely, arms around Steve’s neck.

“I thought they were taking me to jail!”

Bucky laughed, feeling giddy. Steve was so warm. Always so warm...heat from his body radiating through their clothes and onto Bucky’s skin. He’d only had it for a short time, but Bucky had missed it so much.

“God no,” he replied, voice muffled by the shirt at Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if Coulson worried you. He’s a pussy-cat, really.”

Steve snorted gently and nuzzled further into Bucky’s hair. Bucky could have stayed like this forever if they would only have allowed it, but it was over too quickly as Coulson disturbed their reunion with a warning cough. Bucky sighed and unwound himself from Steve’s neck, stepping back reluctantly.

“That’s all we get for now, apparently,” he murmured.

Steve glanced back at the agent, then back to Bucky, the look of confusion back on his face.

“What’s going on, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky took a deep breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His heart was still pounding and his skin felt suddenly cold at the loss of Steve’s natural heat.

“I...uh...kinda messed up, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“That phone call this morning?” Bucky replied. “The really early morning one? I...I don’t remember calling you.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not that,” Bucky added hastily, “I didn’t want to see you. I did – so much in fact that I seem to have called you to tell you in a half-sleeping state.”

“I should have known,” Steve murmured. “You’ve never called me until then.”

Bucky bit his lip guiltily.

“I tried,” he replied quietly. “I guess I was trying to protect you – I didn’t know if my calls were being monitored by anyone and until I found a better way to communicate with you I...just thought a few pictures might tide you over.”

It sounded absolutely stupid when said out loud. Bucky could have kicked himself.

“You could have just told me,” Steve said. “I was going crazy thinking you hated me...”

“Oh god no!”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” continued Steve, “but I just didn’t _know_. You could’ve pulled my email from SHIELD’s web directory if you thought your calls were being screened.”

Bucky’s stomach plummeted.

“I never thought of that,” he mumbled. “I’m so fuckin’ stupid...”

It would have been the simplest solution – even a single email to Steve explaining the situation would have been better than what Bucky had actually done. Steve however, laughed, his face lighting up and lifting Bucky’s spirits a little.

“Nah, you’re not,” he replied softly.

They smiled at each other for a few seconds, a little bashful until Bucky realised he hadn’t finished explaining things. He cleared his throat gently.

“So...the deal is that I had to tell my Aunt about you. She knows everything – even about the photos.”

“Ah, jeez...”

“It’s okay, she’s keeping that information to herself. It stays between us, but...she’s putting you on probation.”

“Huh?”

The thing with Aunt Helen is that she always knew how to make her entrance, and had decided upon this moment to grace the boys with her presence.

“Probation,” Helen repeated loudly, sweeping down the stairs slowly, martini and Sobranie in hand. “Otherwise known as a trial period to see how much of a good boy you are.”

Steve’s face was a picture as he watched Helen make her way down the stairs, her every movement almost predatory as the sharp heels echoed through the apartment. His eyes went wide as she circled him like a vulture, looking him up and down as Steve shot Bucky a helpless glance.

“So...” Aunt Helen continued. “You’re Steven?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” replied Steve, formally.

Bucky almost laughed.

“Well, Steven,” Helen murmured, finally coming to a halt, “I have to say that if you weren’t my nephew’s beau, you’d be just my type!”

“Uh...”

“Don’t be alarmed,” Helen replied, waving her cigarette dismissively. “That’s just my way of saying that the Barneses have excellent taste.”

Steve flushed a beautiful shade of pink, the colour starting in his cheeks and spreading fast to his ears and down to his chest. Bucky had seen him blush like that once before – in Steve’s apartment in Rome when Bucky had woken up in Steve’s bed wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms riding low on his hips. It was stunning.

“Thank you, ma’am...?” Steve replied quietly.

Helen hummed around her martini glass as she took a sip and transferred her cigarette in order to free up her hand.

“Helen Barnes,” she said, offering Steve her perfectly manicured hand to shake. “I’m Bucky’s Aunt.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Of course it is,” Helen murmured before taking another sip of her cocktail.

Helen Barnes enjoyed having this effect on people. She delighted in making people uncomfortable and flirted outrageously with everybody without giving a single fuck as to what anybody thought of her. She always said it was one of the perks of being independently wealthy.

“You’re making Steve nervous, Aunt Helen,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Good,” Helen replied with a wicked smirk.

Steve was standing at attention like a soldier, his back straight and his head up. It was hilarious, but Bucky also felt bad for him having to suffer through Aunt Helen’s inspection. Thankfully, she backed off and walked over to the couch.

“Come on, Steve. Sit down with us.”

Steve took a deep breath and Bucky smiled at him, linking their hands together.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Your Aunt is terrifying,” Steve replied.

Bucky’s smile widened.

“You’re doing great.”

Steve managed a watery smile as they reached the couch and sat down together. Bucky didn’t let go of Steve’s hand, his thumb running gently over the smooth skin of Steve’s palm as he held it.

“So, Steven,” Helen said, turning her attention back to them. “Here’s how it’s going to work: after you leave here today, I’ll be contacting my brother and his wife and putting the best possible spin on this story. As soon as they’re made aware of your existence, they’re going to want to make sure Bucky’s privacy is protected by sending up a lot of forms for you to sign. On top of that, you’re going to undergo a very thorough vetting procedure which I’m sure you’ll pass. Only after all this will you be permitted to be in the same room as my nephew without a chaperone and any pictures you take of him until then will be held by Mr Coulson over there.”

Steve glanced at Bucky’s secret service agent, quietly present behind them and listening to everything. He swallowed audibly and Bucky tightened his grip on Steve’s hand to reassure him.

“Completely understood, ma’am,” he replied. “I know you probably don’t think much of me right now, but I’m determined to prove myself better in your opinion. The truth is, I...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky for the last six weeks. I really like him and I...I swear to you that I want to be good enough.”

Bucky could feel his face heat up and his stomach turn to butterflies at Steve’s words. He couldn’t even begin to say how much he liked this man; how Steve had pretty much dominated every waking thought since he’d left Rome.

Helen glanced at Bucky before draining her martini glass and carefully placing it to the side before turning back to Steve.

“I won't insult you by asking your intentions towards my favourite nephew or to tell you what will happen if you hurt him in any way,” she said. “We're all adults, I'm sure you can figure it all out. But you're cute, so I guess we'll see how it goes!"

Steve laughed gently.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helen nodded once and then stood up in a single graceful movement.

“Alright then,” she breezed. “Now that business is taken care of, I should probably ask if you have a place to stay for the night. You’ve had a very long flight and must be tired.”

Bucky hadn’t even thought about that. It hadn’t crossed his mind to ask Steve where he was staying or if he had enough money for food or transport. Thankfully, Steve nodded.

“I have a friend who lives half a block from the Brooklyn Bridge,” he replied. “She’s very kindly agreed to put me up for a few days.”

Helen gave a satisfied nod.

“Excellent. In that case, we’ll let you go for now and you two can catch up tomorrow when you’ve had some rest,” said Helen. “You must try to come for dinner at some point while you're here, Steven. My cook makes the most excellent brisket.”

Steve looked searchingly at Bucky, who gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand gently. Steve nodded.

“That sounds wonderful, ma’am,” he replied.

Bucky sighed in relief. He didn’t really want to let go of Steve at all tonight, but he understood the rules. They could spend time together the next day, and Helen was right in that Steve had been travelling for a long time already that day. It had to be after one in the morning back in Rome.

Hand in hand, they slowly walked to the elevator with Coulson’s eye on them. Bucky figured there would be no kiss goodbye this time. He pressed the button and glanced at Steve who was smiling.

“Are the rest of your family as terrifying as your Aunt?”

Bucky grinned.

“Aw man, you have no idea,” he replied.

“Shit.”

Bucky laughed at him.

“They’re politicians – if they didn’t know how to make people cower then they wouldn’t be doing their jobs properly.”

“What’s your aunt’s excuse?”

“She just thinks it’s fun.”

Steve snorted in amusement and looked at his feet as the elevator pinged. Bucky bit his lip.

“Steve?”

Steve’s sky-blue eyes snapped up again and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah?”

“I never told you before, but...I’m really glad you got on that plane.”

Steve’s face broke into a beautiful smile and he raised Bucky’s hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“So am I,” he replied. “Even if your family terrifies me.”

Bucky laughed as the elevator doors opened and Coulson stepped forward, ready to usher Steve into it. He sighed softly, reluctantly letting go of Steve’s hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” Steve replied softly, smiling. “G’night, Buck.”

“G’night...” Bucky murmured as Steve disappeared into the elevator with Coulson, leaving him standing alone.

Now that he’d seen Steve again, Bucky didn’t know how he could possibly make it to the next day without him. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

 

****

 

Steve was reeling by the time Helen Barnes’ driver dropped him off at Peggy’s apartment building and he climbed the stairs wearily with his small case in hand. His head was full of everything that had transpired in that short meeting with Bucky’s aunt: on the one hand, he and Bucky were allowed to see each other although it would only be in the company of a secret service chaperone until Steve’s vetting had been completed; on the other hand, the President of the United States would now know Steve was poorly attempting to date her son, and he was going to have to work extra hard to get Bucky’s aunt to believe he was genuine.

He knew he deserved it – you couldn’t find out that the person your loved-one wanted to date tried to exploit them and just be totally fine with that. Steve had always known he would have to earn back some trust with this, but at least he was now in a better position to do so. He’d felt like his heart had been about to burst when he’d seen Bucky. Steve’s mood had changed so suddenly he could have gotten whiplash – he’d been afraid that Coulson was taking him to be interrogated and then there had been Bucky, so beautiful and so damn sweet just standing there waiting for him. It had felt amazing to hold Bucky in his arms again just for that brief moment. He could barely believe that he felt so much and so strongly for a person he’d essentially known for only a day.

It felt like a lifetime since he’d left Rome and he was almost ready to collapse by the time he knocked on Peggy’s door. He expected tall, dark-haired, glamorous Peggy to greet him, but as the apartment door opened, Steve found himself set upon by a smaller girl with mousy-brown hair and a brilliant smile.

“Brooklyn!” Angela Martinelli yelled, throwing her arms around Steve’s neck and hanging onto him for a few seconds with her feet dangling in mid-air. “We thought you’d got lost or somethin’! Your plane landed hours ago!”

Steve grinned as he hugged her back and set her on her feet again. He’d only met Angie once, when Peggy had come to visit him in Rome – she was the most adorable little thing; so bright and bubbly and cute as a button, but she gave off the vibe that she could still kick your ass if you overstepped the line. She was a waitress but spend most of her time running scripts with the diner regulars, trying to break into Broadway. Steve was sure she’d make it one day – she was only young, after all.

“Yeah, I had to go somewhere first,” he replied quietly.

“I thought you said it _wasn't_ a booty call,” Peggy said, appearing from the kitchen with three bottles of cold beer in her hands.

“It wasn’t!” Steve insisted with a sigh, dropping his bags down on the couch and taking a beer from her. “Exactly how much did Sam tell you?”

Peggy perched on the edge of her coffee table, handing off the other beer to Angie who plopped cross-legged on the floor at her feet. Peggy shrugged.

“Only that you’d been seeing somebody back in Rome a few weeks ago and were literally dropping your whole life and spending all your money to get here because they’d asked you to.”

Steve nodded and sat on the couch next to his luggage, taking a small sip of the ice cold beer.

“Did he tell you who it was?”

Both Peggy and Angie shook their heads. Steve took a deep breath.

“I guess it’s easier to go way back to the very start,” he said. “About six weeks ago, I was walking home from Sam’s and I stumbled across this kid passed out on a park bench. I thought he was drunk – couldn’t get a damn sensible word out of him and he kept fallin’ over. I couldn’t just leave him there for the cops to pick up so I brought him home, put him to bed, and let him sleep it off. It wasn’t until I’d slept in and got in late to work that I realised who was asleep in my bed. His picture was plastered all over every damn newspaper on Fury’s desk: James Buchanan Barnes.”

Angie gasped. Peggy frowned.

“Barnes? As in President Barnes?”

“His son!” confirmed Angie, excitedly. “Oh my god, Steve! What happened then?”

Steve told them both about it, from the moment he thought he’d had a great story dropped into his lap, to the where Bucky had left him by the river and every moment in between. It had been hard to pinpoint exactly where Steve had started to fall for Bucky. It had been so sudden but had felt so slow, like that day had been a week or a month and Steve had slowly fallen in love with every new part of Bucky’s personality that had been revealed to him.

By the time he had finished, both women were staring at him.

“My god,” Angie breathed. “That is SO romantic!”

“That’s so Steve,” corrected Peggy, draining her beer bottle as she stood. “I’m going to need something stronger than beer.”

Angie rolled her eyes and scooted closer to Steve, eyes bright.

“So, is that where you went after your flight landed? To see him?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a smile. “The thing is...he didn’t think I’d actually get on a plane and...well he hadn’t told his family about me in case I got into trouble, but because I came over...”

“Because you were stupid and impulsive!” corrected Peggy, who had her head in a cupboard.

“...he had to tell his aunt,” Steve finished, ignoring her. “So now I need to be vetted and we’re not allowed to spend time together alone until it’s done.”

“How awful,” Angie murmured sympathetically.

Peggy scoffed, returning from the kitchen with a bottle of bourbon and glasses.

“It’s ridiculous,” she said, sternly. “You have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for, Steve. It’ll be a bloody media circus. That boy has the most awful reputation following him around – can you even guess what the gossip blogs and tabloids are going to make of this?”

Steve looked at the floor. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much past getting to see Bucky again.

“She’s got a point,” Angie chipped in. “I read those gossip blogs and they can be quite vicious...”

“He’s eighteen, Steve,” Peggy continued. “He’s eighteen with a reputation for shagging older men and doing drugs.”

“It’s not like that...”

“It doesn’t matter what it’s like! Not really,” she interjected. “The point is, this is what people think of him and god only knows what they’ll think of you if you start actually dating him.”

“I don’t care what people think of me,” Steve replied, straightening his shoulders.

“Well, at least that’s true.”

“And they’re wrong about Bucky,” he continued. “Whatever happened to him a few years ago doesn’t matter because he’s the sweetest damn kid in the world, Peggy.”

Peggy sighed and took a large gulp of bourbon.

“I’m sure he is,” she said softly. “I’m not trying to talk you out of it, Steve. You’re an adult, capable of making your own decisions – I just don’t think you quite understand what it will be like to date the son of the President. No matter how much you like him, you’ll never really be out of the public eye.”

Steve looked at his hands. She was right. Peggy was always right, no matter how much he hated to admit it. All through college it was like they had been two peas in a pod – Peggy was his enabler, always helping him when he had his crazy ideas and making sure they never got out of hand. She had her fair share of impulsive moments too, and never really called him out unless she thought Steve was going too far. Peggy was only trying to protect him as always.

“He’s worth trying for,” he said softly.

Angie squeezed his knee as Peggy drained her glass.

“I still think it’s romantic as hell,” she replied with a small smile. “No matter what English says.”

Peggy shook her head, but she was smiling slightly as she stood up and hugged Steve’s head to her stomach, scratching long red fingernails through the short hairs at the back.

“You’re such an idealist, Steve,” she said, “but even if it was one of your dumber ideas, it’s nice to have you back.”

“It’s nice to be back, Peg,” he replied, eyes closing slowly as he relaxed into her.

He was fully exhausted now, the travel and the talking and the alcohol all finally taking their toll on him. Steve was already half asleep when Peggy began to move away, causing him to overbalance.

“Come on, Brooklyn! Let’s get you to bed before you collapse on our living room floor!”

Steve grinned as Angie attempted to pull him to his feet. Tomorrow would be a new day and he’d get to see Bucky again. Even if all they could do was talk, it was more than enough for Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it seems that I need to take a short break from writing this fic. With luck it will only be a few weeks and I have chapter three queued up to post about a week after this one, so it's not too much of a drought. I hope to be back and writing as soon as I've completed what I need to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should just put a small warning that this chapter mentions a relationship between an underage student and a teacher, and also mentions a drug overdose. Both are not explored in explicit detail, only mentioned briefly in the conversation they're having, but I don't know how much it takes for any individual to be upset or triggered by such content, hence the advance warning.

Steve was woken by the sound of Peggy’s voice, muffled through the door of the spare bedroom and by the blankets he had pulled up around his ears. He knew Peggy wasn’t talking to him, but it was a loud enough conversation for Steve to know he wasn’t getting back to sleep any time soon. Groaning, he fought his way out of the blanket burrito and reached for his phone to check the time. It was later than he’d thought – Angie had probably gone to work hours ago which meant that Peggy was either talking to herself or to the cats. Either way, Steve had slept for almost twelve solid hours and was rested enough to get out of bed and hunt for something to quell the empty rumbling of his stomach.

Pulling on sweatpants and the t-shirt he’d warn the day before, Steve padded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the lounge, only to be confronted by the sight of a New York City cop leaning over the coffee table, hastily scooping things off the surface and stuffing them in his pockets. He stopped dead when he spotted Steve, his face breaking into a wide, friendly smile.

“Hey!” the cop greeted him, extending a hand as he straightened up. “You must be Steve. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve’s brain went into overdrive. He searched through recent memories and frantically dredged up conversations with Peggy he’d had in the last year that might give him any idea as to who this guy was, and came up blank. The guy was around the same age as Steve, stocky and not as tall, with wavy brown hair and dark eyes. Steve had absolutely no idea who he was, and helplessly shook his hand.

“Uh...yeah.”

“I’m Daniel,” the guy replied, cheerfully resuming his task of gathering together his stuff. “And I am so late!”

“They shouldn’t put you on a late shift and then ask you to go in for day shift five hours later,” Peggy said reproachfully as she appeared from the kitchen, pouring coffee from the jug into a travel cup.

Daniel smiled at her.

“The pay for late shifts is good.”

She raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow in response as she held out the coffee mug, and Daniel kissed her on the cheek gently as he took it.

“Love you,” he murmured, turning to dash out of the door and grinning at Steve as he passed. “Talk to you later, buddy!”

Steve blinked as the police whirlwind exited the apartment and left Steve and Peggy alone.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding up the half empty pot.

“Sure...” Steve replied.

He padded after her into the kitchen and pulled himself onto one of the counter stools and Peggy placed a green ceramic mug in front of him and filled it up with fresh coffee.

“So...uh...” mumbled Steve as he reached for the cream, “Daniel, huh?”

“Our boyfriend,” Peggy replied simply.

“Our...?”

“Mine and Angie’s.”

“Oh...” Steve murmured. “You never mentioned him.”

“You never asked,” she replied, fixing him with a challenging look.

Steve bit his lip and looked at his coffee. Since moving to Rome over a year ago Steve had been lax in his phone calls home, resorting mostly to brief emails to his friends and his mother. There was never any in-depth conversation through them.

“Sorry,” he replied quietly. “Have you all been together long?”

“About seven months.”

“Jeez,” Steve muttered. “Look what I miss when I disappear for a while.”

Peggy smirked and handed Steve a custard Danish on a plate which he accepted gratefully.

“If you just called home more often, you wouldn’t,” she replied. “Which reminds me – are you going to visit your mother while you’re home? She misses you terribly, you know.”

“I know,” Steve said, guiltily. “I just...I went to Europe to make a name for myself and I ended up jaded and broke, almost throwing all my morals out of the window in order to make a quick buck at the expense of the sweetest kid in the world. She’d be so disappointed if she found out any of that...and I wouldn’t be able to lie to her if I talked to her.”

Peggy leaned over the counter and squeezed his hand gently.

“Steve, your mother could never be disappointed in you. She loves you too much – she only ever wants you to be happy, and by the sounds of it you weren’t happy in Rome.”

Steve bit into his pastry and sighed.

“No,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “I think the happiest I ever was over there was when I met Bucky...”

“And now he’s here,” she replied, knowingly. “Along with your friends and family. Quite an incentive to get out of there, don’t you think?”

Steve grinned at her.

“At this rate, Fury will probably fire me anyway so I guess I might as well!”

Peggy smiled and shook her head.

“If SHIELD fire you, you’ll never get a job with a decent place ever again,” she said. “So...what are you and your teenage lover up to today?”

Steve almost choked on his pastry.

“Don’t say it like that! It sounds so sordid!”

“Isn’t it?” laughed Peggy.

“God no!” Steve replied. “It’s like, only a four year age difference between us.”

“He’s still a teenager,” she insisted.

“Yes, but eighteen. He’s technically an adult.”

“Barely.”

Steve laughed.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst friend!”

“I just can’t believe that, out of all the twinks in the world, you went and fell head over heels for the son of the most powerful woman in the world. I mean, that takes guts, Rogers!”

“Yesterday you said it was stupid.”

“Oh, it’s definitely stupid,” she retorted with a grin, “but still gutsy.”

Steve chuckled and polished off his pastry.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he replied. “I guess that getting to actually know each other would be a start, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Even though we’re going to have his secret service agent following us around everywhere until my vetting is done.”

Peggy nodded.

“That’s life, I suppose,” she murmured. “Getting a coffee and having a chat would help you both, I think. After all, you’re both starting this relationship all funny.”

“Backwards, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

She smiled at him and leaned forward on the counter, squeezing his hands in hers.

“Just...promise me you’ll shave first and comb your hair? You look like a proper scruff – I don’t even know what his aunt thought of you turning up looking like a hobo!”

Steve laughed at her.

“Sure. I’ll make myself look all respectable while I’m waiting for my summons,” he replied.

Peggy left for work ten minutes later and Steve did as he’d promised, washing away the hours of travelling in the shower as he waited for Bucky to call him. He’d been waiting weeks for this day – he wanted to look his best for it.

 

****

 

Bucky was glad that neither of his parents could see his face as they all talked via conference call early the next morning. He was nervous and fidgety, gnawing on his lower lip and sitting on his hands as Aunt Helen slowly walked the floor and told them about Steve.

His aunt was truly spectacular. She’d informed Bucky’s parents that it had been her idea to bring Steve over from Italy, that Bucky had told her all about the young man he’d met in Rome that day and that she’d decided to meet him. Bucky had to admit that it sounded a lot more above-board than what had been essentially a transatlantic booty call.

“Why didn’t you tell us about him, James?” President Winifred Barnes asked, gently.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky replied. “After having disappeared for a whole day, finding out that the person I spent the day with happened to be a photographer would have been the straw to break the back. I was scared you’d never let me see him again.”

“So you went around us to your aunt?” his father asked.

“It wasn’t at all like that,” Helen answered for him. “All he did was tell me the story. He never asked me for anything – I brought Steve Rogers over on my own initiative.”

Helen took a long drag of her Sobranie and placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Besides,” she added. “James is right – you would never have let that young man within a hundred miles if you’d known about him.”

Bucky’s parents were silent for a moment as Helen winked at Bucky cheerfully. He could imagine them giving each other guilty looks back in the Oval Office.

“Well...I suppose he’s here now,” Bucky’s mother said eventually. “The least we can do is give him a chance. There are some conditions though.”

“I know,” Bucky replied. “He’s got to be vetted, he has no sign a lot of official documents, and no unsupervised visits until he’s cleared, right?”

Helen grinned at him.

“The boy knows how things work by now, Freddie,” she told Bucky’s mother. “He’s been through it enough over the years.”

“Alright,” his mother replied. “In that case, I’ll be sending Darcy up to New York with all the things he needs to sign. We’ll start all the other proceedings immediately.”

Bucky collapsed back on the sofa with a sigh of relief as his aunt ended the conference call and ran both hands over his face and up through his hair.

“See?” Helen said, moving over to the cabinet to fix herself a morning cocktail. “That wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, was it?”

“Thanks to you,” Bucky mumbled. “They would have eaten me alive otherwise.”

Helen smiled gently as she dropped an olive into her martini and moved over to the couch to sit next to Bucky, putting her arm around his shoulders and drawing him in. Bucky rested his head on her shoulder and sighed.

“My sweet, darling boy,” she murmured into his hair. “You know you’re my favourite, don’t you?”

Bucky grinned.

“So you keep telling me. Rebecca would be so jealous.”

“Rebecca is just like your parents – she gives zero fucks about what anyone thinks of her. You’re not like that though. You, James Buchanan Barnes are a sweet boy who cares about everything and everyone, and that’s why people love you.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle.

“’People’ think I’m a delinquent.”

“I’m not talking about the media-whipped masses,” Helen replied. “I’m talking about people who know you – the real you. Nobody could possibly spend a day with you and not think that you’re the loveliest boy on the planet – Steve Rogers is proof of that!”

Bucky raised his head to look at her and raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn’t trust him yet?”

“I’m coming around,” she replied with a smirk. “The way he looked at you yesterday told me quite a lot, actually.”

He smiled at her, warmly. Bucky had always felt closer to his aunt than either of his parents. Maybe it was because she’d never made him feel restricted or discouraged him from being anybody but himself, but life was easier with Aunt Helen’s support.

“I’m kinda in love with him y’know.”

“I know,” she said. “I just want to make sure he’s worth it.”

Bucky nodded slowly as Helen ruffled his hair and took another sip of her martini. She was the only person he felt comfortable admitting that to, aside from Natasha. Aunt Helen would never have told him that he was too young to know what love was, or that a day wasn’t possibly long enough to develop those kinds of feelings. Bucky definitely wasn’t too young to know what love was – it had almost ruined his life only a handful of years ago.

“So,” she continued. “What are your plans today?”

“I’m not sure, really,” Bucky replied. “It’s too early to call Steve, even though I’m dying to see him.”

Helen hummed thoughtfully.

“Have you told Natalia that Steve is in town yet?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I called her briefly while I was waiting for his plane to get in. She wants to meet him, obviously.”

His aunt smiled at him.

“Well, my advice is to get some time together first – just you and Steve. Go somewhere quiet today.”

“Just the two of us and Coulson,” murmured Bucky with amusement.

“For now,” replied Helen with a smirk. “Are you going to tell Steve about... _him_?”

Bucky felt his body stiffen for a split second before he sighed and relaxed again. He knew who she meant – the man he’d fallen for three years ago. The whole story had been warped by the media and he wanted Steve to know what really happened. Slowly, he nodded again.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to tell him, and...I think he deserves to know for sure what all this is about.”

Aunt Helen took a long sip of her martini and unwound her arm from Bucky’s shoulder before standing in a single graceful movement. Bucky always marvelled at how she did that – if he tried to stand up without using his hands for leverage, he’d just look like an ungainly baby giraffe.

“Right,” Helen breezed. “I have a charity brunch I need to get to, so I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

“Okay, Aunt Helen.”

He watched as she clicked across the floor to the stairs, martini still in hand, and he grinned before pulling out his phone. He didn’t know if Steve was awake yet or not, so he didn’t want to risk calling and disturbing any well-needed sleep. A text however was not quite as invasive, and after a moment’s thought, he pulled up a new message for Steve and typed a single word:

_‘Coffee?’_

 

****

 

They met in a small Brooklyn cafe just after lunchtime. It was a place Steve had frequented quite often when he’d still lived in the city; small and quaint, facing south east and getting the best of the sun while serving pretty reasonable coffee.

Steve and Bucky sat opposite each other at a table by the open window, the smell of the herb garden in the outside window boxes mingling with that of fresh brewed coffee and baked goods. The only thing that spoiled the entire effect was the presence of their chaperone, Secret Service Agent Phil Coulson, who sat a few tables away from them with a coffee and a newspaper that he wasn’t actually reading.

As intimidating as their constant escort was, Steve’s heart had leapt the second Bucky had entered the place, all designer casual, his hair perfectly styled, and every bit the gorgeous boy Steve had met in Rome.

Steve ordered coffee and Bucky ordered a milkshake, beaming up at the waitress as he did so and Steve’s stomach fluttered gently at the sight.

“This is a nice place,” Bucky murmured as the waitress moved away. “Quiet.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “It’s a little out of the way, but...”

“No,” Bucky interrupted with a smile. “I like that about it.”

Steve smiled back.

“I just...I dunno. It was pointed out to me that we know nothing about each other, really. We had a day together but we didn’t really get to talk, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied softly. “I know what you mean. There’s a lot of stuff I really need to explain.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, frowning.

Bucky opened his mouth to reply but clamped it shut again as the waitress returned with their drinks. Aside from a quiet thanks, he said nothing else until she moved away again.

“I just...needed to set the record straight. About...the stuff that was in the news about me a few years ago.”

Steve knew immediately what he was talking about.

“Naw, Buck, You don’t need to do that...”

“Yeah I do! I need you to know the truth about it all. It’s something that’s been weighing heavy on my mind and I’ll just feel better if you know my side of it. Full disclosure – I don’t want this to be something that can get between us and fuck everything up, okay?”

It wasn’t quite the first thing that had come to mind when Steve had thought of what would be said between them. However, he guessed that they might as well get the grubby stuff out of the way first. He’d confessed his terrible secret to Bucky before they’d parted in Rome, and although Bucky’s tale wasn’t exactly a secret, the media had never known the full truth. It was about as good a time as any to hear it.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated quietly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “It was my English teacher – he was THAT teacher...the one everybody has a crush on, or at least he would have been if it hadn’t been a boy’s boarding school. I mean, I’m not saying that a bunch of teenage boys locked up together won’t stick their dick wherever they can but...that’s beside the point.”

Bucky shrugged and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“His name was Darren, he was thirty-two, he was married. It all started pretty innocently at first – glances that lasted a split second longer than they should; his finger brushing against mine as he handed back a paper.  I almost thought I was imagining it all at first but then it started to escalate. I did marginally worse on a paper one time and he held me back after class. It was everything – from the way he sat close to me, the way his hands brushed over mine, the way he laughed at my dumb attempts at a joke...it all made me want more, so I kept underperforming on purpose. Part of me was stupid enough to think I was seducing my teacher, but I wasn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing; playing me like a fish on a line, reeling me in just enough before dropping me for a while and reeling me back in again.”

Steve bit his lip at the bitterness in Bucky’s voice. Three years since it had happened and it was obviously still raw and painful to talk about. Blue-grey eyes were fixed to the table, staring at the wood grain as he continued his story, not looking at Steve at all.

“I was hooked. He gave me just enough to keep me hanging on, telling me he loved me, that he was going to leave his wife so we could be together but it couldn’t happen for a while. I would have done anything he asked me to do and he knew it. One night, he snuck me out of the school in his car and we went to a motel. It was the cheapest, seediest place but I didn’t care because I was with him. I told myself that it was the only place we could find or the only place we could be discreet, but when I think back on it, it just proves what he thought of me – his dirty little secret, not worth anything more than a dive with stained sheets and a broken TV.”

He paused again, his voice catching a little in his throat and for a second, Steve thought Bucky was about to cry. Instinctively, he reached across the table and grasped Bucky’s hand. Grey-blue eyes instantly shot up in surprise, as though he’d forgotten Steve was there. Bucky let out a shaky breath and gave Steve a marginal smile, linking their fingers together gently. When he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“We were supposed to have sex, but never made it that far,” he admitted, showing no embarrassment whatsoever about it. “I wouldn’t have thanked them at the time, but some desk clerk at the motel obviously thought that a thirty-two year old man and a fifteen year old boy rocking up to a motel frequented by prostitutes probably warranted calling the police. They knocked down the door and arrested Darren right there, dragging him into the police car half naked.”

Bucky smirked a little at the memory and shook his head.

“He was charged with corruption of, and carnal knowledge of a minor. My dad flew all the way out to be there with me and talk me down when I was screaming that Darren did nothing wrong; that I’d wanted it. It took me a long time to realise that Darren was the one in the wrong. I probably should have known better, but he definitely should have.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. The media had printed the incident vaguely – saying that President’s Son James Buchanan Barnes had been caught in a compromising position with one of his male boarding school teachers. The gossip blogs and tabloids had gone one further and said he’d been caught giving the teacher a blow job. The reality of the situation was much worse. Not that Steve had ever truly believed it, but it had all been painted as though Bucky had been the wicked little nymphomaniac, hell-bent on seducing and destroying a good man’s marriage. The fact that Bucky had been seduced by a man twice his age, manipulated into falling in love with him, and been left broken-hearted and used, was less sordid and more distressing. Steve couldn’t imagine having to cope with the media fallout and having his reputation dragged through the mud.

“Is that...is it the reason you turned to...”

“Cocaine?” Bucky finished for him. “Kinda. I couldn’t go back to that school – I couldn’t face everybody staring at me and knowing what I’d done and who I’d done it with, so my parents put me in a different school. It was too easy to put on a bright smile and go to every party, to accept everything they gave me just because it numbed me for a little time.”

Bucky swallowed hard and wrapped both of his hands around Steve’s, looking at him earnestly.

“I’m not fatalistic,” he murmured. “I was in a seriously bad place back then but I didn’t try to kill myself. I overdosed by accident...I just didn’t keep track of how much I was taking and nobody was trying to stop me. It wasn’t a suicide attempt.”

For some reason, it lifted Steve’s spirits a little to know that it had been accidental; that this bright, warm-hearted, sweet kid had tried his best to keep going through all the shit that happened in his life.

“It wouldn’t have mattered to me if it had been,” Steve said, lifting Bucky’s hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against the knuckles. “Everything you’ve been through, everything that’s happened to you over the last eighteen years had made you into the person you are right now, and that’s the person I feel so strongly about.”

Bucky let out a noise that was half laugh, half sob, and he ducked his head to hide the smile that sprang to his lips.

“Where the fuck did you come from, Steve Rogers?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve answered cheerfully.

“Via Heaven, by any chance?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dublin, actually – my parents were Irish immigrants.”

Bucky sniffed back whatever tears had been threatening to prickle in his eyes and grinned.

“Well, remind me to pay my compliments as soon as I can.”

Steve smiled, thumb stroking gently over Bucky’s hand. He was overwhelmed with it all; imagining a fifteen year old Bucky crying in his father’s arms after having who he believed was the love of his life taken away from him. He could see a hint of that boy sitting in front of him now, behind the eyes of somebody now much more comfortable in his own skin. More than anything though, he couldn’t quite quell the anger in his belly, directed at the teacher who had done this to Bucky. What made somebody do a thing like that? Had it just been the thrill of seducing the son of the President, or because Bucky was sweet and impressionable, or had it just been because the guy was sick and twisted. Steve could happily have smashed the guy’s face in at that moment.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me this. I…uh…can’t imagine it’s easy to talk about.”

Bucky shrugged and gave him a small smile.

“It wasn’t at first, but I’ve had the best therapy money can buy. Most aren’t that lucky, but I’m pretty okay with everything now. It was shitty while it happened and although remembering it isn’t really that great, it’s in the past. Besides, I kinda met this guy a few weeks ago that I kinda really like…”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” replied Bucky, his smile turning into a smirk. “He was kind of a dick at first but y'know…he’s got potential.”

“Oh, you are such a brat!”

They grinned at each other, the mood much lighter suddenly.

A small cough to their right alerted Steve to the presence of Bucky’s secret service agent and he dropped Bucky’s hands as though he’d been burned. It wasn’t as though they’d been banned from touching each other, but Steve knew that Coulson would be reporting everything they said and did, and Steve didn’t want to be found over-stepping his bounds. Sheepishly, he picked up his too-cool coffee and drained half the cup as Bucky grinned at him and pulled his milkshake towards him.

“So...” Bucky said, conversationally. “Tell me some random shit about you.”

Steve chuckled and scratched his head, thoughtfully.

“Random shit about me, huh? Like what?”

“I dunno,” Bucky replied with a shrug. “Like...your favourite ice cream flavour or what you love to photograph most. Your favourite pet growing up!”

Steve grinned and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he talked. Bucky watched him with bright eyes, occasionally dipping his head to close his lips around his straw and slurp up his milkshake.

“Uh...okay,” he began, clearing his throat. “My full name is Steven Grant Rogers – my dad, for some unknown reason, thought it would make me more American by including a President’s name in mine...”

Bucky nodded sagely.

“I feel your pain – my idiot Presidential parents named me after the only gay President and look how I turned out! I’m guessing yours was for Ulysses S Grant? Decent choice, Mr Rogers.”

Steve laughed at him.

“Yeah, well...at least it wasn’t ‘Ulysses’. Uh...let’s see. Favourite ice cream is mint chocolate chip. I like photographing people, but not really portraits – I find a part of a person I think is beautiful, like their hands or their ears, and I put the focus there on the shape or the texture of their skin...”

“Like the pictures you have in your apartment,” Bucky mused.

“Yeah,” agreed Steve, thinking back to the photographs Bucky had admired on his apartment wall just over a month ago.

“What about pets?”

“We never had any,” Steve replied regretfully. “Our place was pretty small and there was a pet ban anyway. There was a skinny cat that used to keep sitting on my windowsill after school but I never knew where it came from.”

Bucky smiled at him and dipped his head forward again to reach his straw. Steve tried very hard not to notice it – such a seemingly innocent gesture that Bucky somehow managed to make obscene, his eyes closing and dark eyelashes fanning out over his cheekbones; lips parting delicately; cheeks hollowing; the minute noise of pleasure he made when he swallowed the thick creamy liquid....

Steve could feel himself growing hot and he picked up his half empty cup and drained it for a distraction, almost choking on the large amount of coffee hitting the back of his throat at once. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about Bucky in that way before. Just the day before, the huskiness in the kid’s voice had send Steve on a trip over to the other side of the world and he’d spent more than a few nights over the last month awake and reliving the stolen few hours they’d spent in each other’s arms, kissing and caressing on top of the covers on Steve’s bed in Rome.

Since arriving, he’d not had the chance to think about how fucking beautiful Bucky was or how much Steve felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The worst thing was that he was now sitting in a very public Brooklyn cafe with an armed secret service agent a few metres away from him, so gathering Bucky up in his arms was the last thing he was able to do.

“What about you?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly as he set his cup back down. “I’m taking you for a double chocolate chip ice cream kinda guy, am I right?”

Bucky’s giggle was gorgeous and happy and completely adorable. They talked all afternoon, drinks largely forgotten as they discussed little things – movies and music, favourite desserts and drinks, places they enjoyed hanging out at. It was like a real date; their first real date and it was wonderful, sitting there in the warm sunshine, getting to know the sweetest boy on the damn planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can, please take some time out to leave kudos and a comment, as it means the world to know you're enjoying what you're reading. 
> 
> Thank you


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks to cabloom for helping me iron out the kinks in this chapter <3

Steve hadn’t even got through the door that evening before he was accosted by Angie, still in her diner uniform and wearing the most troubled look on her face.

“Brooklyn, please tell me that you called your ma today and that you’re going to see her at some point!”

Steve blinked at her, surprised. He had still been playing his day with Bucky over in his head as he’d trudged up the many stairs of the apartment building. The last thing he’d expected was Angie in his face.

“Uh...” he replied, glancing past her to the concerned face of Daniel the Cop and Peggy’s amused smirk. “No, not yet. Why?”

“I did tell you to call her,” Peggy murmured from the couch.

Angie bit her lip guiltily.

“Your ma sometimes pops into my diner on her way to and from her shifts,” she explained, digging her flat-shoed toe into the rug. “She was in earlier grabbing a coffee, and I’m not sure but I might have accidentally let slip something that hinted you might be here, but I’m not sure...and if I did, she might not have heard me because she was kinda digging around in her purse for change, but basically, you might wanna call and tell her you’re back.”

Steve blinked again as he processed Angie’s swift speech, and then sighed.

Peggy had told him over breakfast that morning that it was in his best interests to call his mother. He had really meant to, except he’d got caught up in Bucky and forgotten all about it. He honestly used to be a much better son than this – before he moved to Rome he’d check in with his ma all the time, often just calling her to ask how her shift at the hospital was that day, or to tell her that he was attempting to cook his ma’s Irish stew for his roommates. Steve had barely picked up the phone since moving to Rome and he hated that he’d become that person.

“Thanks, Angie,” he murmured, digging his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call her now.”

Steve ignored Peggy’s smug smile as he wandered into the spare bedroom and closed the door, taking a deep breath as he searched through the contacts for his mother’s number and hitting the call button. It rang three times before she picked up.

“Hello?”

Steve’s heart stuttered slightly in his chest at the sound of Sarah Rogers’ voice; soft and musical, the slight hint of a gentle Dublin accent underlying the harsher Brooklyn one, betraying the fact that she wasn’t American born and bred.

“Ma?”

“Steve!”

He could hear the delight in her voice and almost choked up, tears springing to his eyes. God, but he never realised he’d had missed her so much.

“It’s so good to hear from you, _a mhuirnín_! It feels like forever!”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed back his tears.

“I’m sorry, ma,” he replied, quietly.

“No, don’t be sorry,” his mother murmured. “It’s just wonderful to hear your voice again. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Steve said, swiping his free hand across his eyes, quickly. “I’m pretty great actually. I’m home for a few days – just got in yesterday.”

“You know,” Sarah Rogers replied, “I could have sworn that I misunderstood Angie when I ran into her earlier today, but I’m so glad I didn’t! Are you staying long?”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh and sank slowly onto the bed.

“Nah, I’m uh...not actually supposed to be here at all.”

“That sounds nefarious,” his mother replied.

Steve grinned.

“I didn’t tell my boss,” he explained. “It was pretty impulsive – Peggy insists it was dumb, but...I just had to.”

His mother was quiet for a second before answering.

“So, is there any special reason for this impromptu visit?”

Steve could feel his face begin to grow hot and was glad nobody could see it.

“I...uh...I met somebody.”

“Really?”

“Yeah...” he murmured, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s a long and complicated story but...basically he’s in New York right now and he called me, so...”

He shrugged as he trailed off. The more he thought about it, the more silly it sounded...but Bucky was worth the trip.

“So is it serious?” his mother asked.

“Pretty serious,” Steve replied.

He had to be crazy about Bucky just to go through all the things his family were doing to make sure Steve was up to scratch. Wanting to date the President’s eighteen year old son was pretty serious business, but Steve was willing to do whatever it took.

“Wow...” Sarah murmured. “My baby boy’s all grown up now and getting himself a boyfriend!”

Steve laughed.

“Yeah well, it’s pretty complicated but I’m hopeful it’ll all work out.”

“I hope so,” she replied.

Steve bit his lip as they fell quiet. He could almost hear his mother’s proud smile on the other end of the line and wished that he could see her face.

“Are you busy tomorrow, ma?”

“Not so much,” Sarah replied cheerfully. “Do you want to come over for lunch? I can make your favourite.”

Steve’s stomach rumbled loudly at the mere thought of his mother’s thick Irish stew with fluffy herb dumplings and the delicious apple and cinnamon crumble she would make for dessert. It had been such a long time since he’d eaten a decent home-cooked meal.

“That sounds amazing,” he replied. “Would I...be able to bring a guest?”

“Of course, _a leanbh_!” Sarah Rogers exclaimed. “The more the merrier!”

Steve’s cheeks were aching from smiling by the time he’d bid his mother farewell and walked back out of the spare bedroom to find Peggy, Angie, and Daniel looking at him expectantly, frozen in the middle of their evening routine.

“Well?” asked Peggy, a large serving spoon hovering above a monster of a ceramic dish.

Steve smiled.

“Going to ma’s for lunch tomorrow,” he replied. “I’m gonna take Bucky with me...if he wants to go, that is.”

The others gave each other a knowing look.

“Meeting your ma already, Brooklyn?” said Angie, smirking as she continued to lay out the cutlery for dinner. “I take it your date went well today, then?”

Peggy snorted with laughter and resumed dishing out the food from the ceramic dish – cottage pie from the smell of it.

“It was really great,” Steve replied quietly. “He also told me the whole story about what happened with him and that teacher a few years ago.”

Everyone paused again, smirks disappearing.

“Bad?” Peggy asked, gently.

“Pretty heartbreaking, really,” Steve murmured.

A look passed between the other three again and they silently went back to their tasks.

“Well,” Daniel said, finally breaking the silence as he opened the fridge and took four beers out, closing the door again gently with a nudge from his hip. “At the very least, you got to know about each other a little more.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a grin. “It was nice.”

“Well then,” Peggy said briskly, balancing four fully loaded plates that rivalled Angie’s waitressing skills. “Sit yourself down and you can tell us all about it over dinner.”

 

****

 

Bucky was already up and about, dancing around Aunt Helen’s sunny breakfast room with a slice of buttered toast in hand when Steve called him, phone buzzing in the pocket of his Versace jeans and almost getting dropped as Bucky juggled toast, phone, and volume button for the music.

“Hello?” he answered, feeling slightly more breathless than he should have for that time in the morning.

“Hey, Buck!” was Steve’s cheerful reply, and Bucky’s heart began to beat faster at the mere sound of it.

“Hey...”

Bucky set his toast down onto a plate and licked the buttery residue from his fingers.

“Sorry, I was just...eating breakfast.”

“That’s okay,” replied Steve with a small laugh. “I did call kinda early.”

“Any particular reason for that, or were you just dying to speak to me?” Bucky joked.

On the other end of the line, Steve gave a little nervous laugh and Bucky’s stomach plummeted. That kind of laugh never heralded good news.

“Well...” Steve began hesitantly. “I kinda spoke to my ma last night for the first time in a good few months. I realised that I missed her and that I’ve been the world’s crappiest son so...I kinda wanted to go see her today.”

“Oh...” Bucky replied, quietly.

His shoulders slumped with disappointment and he sat down heavily on a chair at the breakfast table. Bucky knew he shouldn’t feel so bummed about it – Steve may have flown all the way from Rome to see him but that didn’t mean that he shouldn’t see his mother while he was here. It would be utterly selfish of him to think he should have Steve all to himself for the whole time.

They hadn’t really planned the day ahead anyway. There had been talk about maybe visiting the zoo in Central Park and probably some lunch afterwards, but no definite plans had been made. Bucky was just going to have to amuse himself for the day and he’d see Steve the next day. Not that the thought made him feel any better. In fact the whole prospect of spending the day on his own while Steve was enjoying the company of another person made him feel thoroughly miserable, even if that person was Steve’s mother.

“I guess, I’ll just see you tomorrow then,” he said aloud, not able to fully keep the melancholy from his voice.

“Well...actually...” Steve replied, slowly. “I’d really love it if you came along with me.”

Bucky’s sunken heart began to rise again like a balloon.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Steve enthused. “I mean, I understand if you don’t – it’s pretty sudden to be meeting my ma and all...”

“No!” Bucky interrupted, heart soaring once more. “No, I’d love to.”

“You would?”

Steve sounded surprised.

“Of course,” replied Bucky, smiling to himself. “I mean, you know Coulson would have to come along too, right?”

“Shit, I forgot about him...”

“As long as your ma is okay with a secret service agent hanging around her place for a couple of hours, I guess it won’t be too weird.”

Steve sighed on the other end of the call.

“I did tell her it was complicated,” he murmured. “She’ll understand.”

“Great,” Bucky replied, beaming. “Well then, I guess we’ll pick you up on our way through Brooklyn.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve said, warmly.

It made Bucky immensely happy to hear it. Ending the call, he swiftly finished off his buttered toast and raced to his room to make himself look presentable.

 

****

 

An hour and a half later, Bucky was nervously tugging the top of his hair into shape as he stood slightly behind Steve in front of an apartment door that had seen better days. The whole building was in a pretty sorry state if he was honest with himself – not the worst it could be, but certainly a poor state for what passed as an apartment building in Brooklyn these days. It was a relic from another time, before the whole area was bought out, taken over, and re-vamped into trendy, tiny apartments that cost a small fortune. It quite shocked him that Steve had grown up in a place like this.

“Don’t worry,” Steve murmured, giving Bucky’s hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “She’s gonna love ya.”

Bucky flashed him a slightly strained smile, thankful that Steve had mistaken his discomfort for nerves. Even though he was sure that nothing awful would happen to him in a place like this, Bucky was grateful for the solid, silent presence of Phil Coulson at his back.

He jumped slightly as the battered door was pulled open with enthusiasm and a beaming woman appeared in the space behind it. Bucky hadn’t given an awful lot of thought about what Steve’s mother would look like, but he was surprised to find the woman pulling Steve into a tight hug was almost as tall as he was. She must have been in her forties, around the same age as Aunt Helen, but instead of his aunt’s perfectly coiffed hair and immaculately tailored clothes, Sarah Rogers’ willowy frame was swamped in an oversized sweater and jeans; her straw blond hair streaked with grey and pulled up haphazardly with tendrils falling loose from their bindings.

Her face though, was undoubtedly Steve’s – open and warm and handsome, with the same slightly crooked nose and tears of joy spilling from eyes that were exactly the same colour as Steve’s summer sky blue. She held onto Steve for a good minute, quietly murmuring words that didn’t sound at all like English while Steve hugged her back, just as tightly.

Bucky was beginning to feel like an intruder, like he shouldn’t be there, when Steve’s mother finally let him go and turned her attention on Bucky, smiling at him warmly.

“I apologise for my rudeness,” she said, stepping forward to take Bucky’s hand in her own. “I havn’t seen him in a while – I just got carried away.”

Bucky nodded, unsure of how to reply. Sarah Rogers’ hand was warm and dusted with flour, and she clasped Bucky’s fingers like he was an old friend.

“Ma,” Steve said, beginning introductions. “This is Bucky Barnes. Bucky, this is my ma, Sarah.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms Rogers,” Bucky replied courteously, automatically turning on the behaviour drilled into him by years of meeting dignitaries and royalty.

“Call me Sarah, please,” she replied gently, beaming at him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to meet YOU.”

She squeezed Bucky’s hand one more time, and then her eyes focussed on the figure of Agent Coulson standing behind Bucky and to the left of him. Her brow creased slightly as she took in the black suit and the evident bump of a concealed weapon under Coulson’s jacket.

“And...this is...?”

“Agent Philip Coulson, ma’am,” the secret service agent replied with a polite nod.

Sarah Rogers’ fair eyebrows shot up in surprise and she looked from Coulson, to Bucky, to Steve who shrugged gently and grinned.

“You remember I said it was complicated?”

“I do,” replied Sarah, cautiously. “I think you’d all better come in for a cup of tea and enlighten me.”

She beckoned everyone inside and Steve grinned at Bucky as they all followed her into the small, well-furnished apartment. Bucky chose a seat next to Steve on a couch that would have been the height of fashion in the 1970s, which was probably when it was last comfortable to sit on, and gazed around the room while Sarah made tea.

Most of the furnishings were pretty old-fashioned but sturdy, made in a time where furniture was meant to last for a lot of years unlike the cheap, mass-produced things of the modern age that lasted five years if you were lucky. There were also photographs everywhere – a lot of the older ones sitting in little silver frames on bookshelves, but also some larger prints hanging on the walls that were obviously Steve’s work.

It took two pots of good, strong Irish tea to assist them in telling Sarah Rogers the story of how they both met and the events leading up to them sitting in her living room with an armed secret service agent sipping tea in the corner. When it was all over, Sarah Rogers sighed heavily and gave Steve a reproachful look.

“Well, you could have at least warned me that I was having a visit by American royalty,” she said, her voice betraying her amusement. “I would have made something a little classier than Irish stew!”

Bucky smiled at her.

“Sarah, it’s just an absolute honour to be invited into your home,” he replied. “The fact that you’re feeding me at all is wonderful.”

Sarah Rogers’ face flushed pink, exactly the same way Steve’s did -  from cheeks to chest to the ear tips, and she grinned at him.

“You can come here more often,” she said, ruffling his hair as she stood and passed him on the way to the kitchen to check on lunch.

Bucky beamed happily as he watched Sarah Rogers leave the room and turned to Steve.

“Your mom is really nice,” he said, quietly.

Steve’s eyebrows arched upwards in surprise.

“Of course she is,” he replied. “Everyone loves my ma. And she really likes you too.”

“I hope so,” Bucky murmured.

Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and squeezed it gently, opening his mouth to respond when Sarah’s head appeared at the kitchen door, peeking out around the frame.

“Lunch is ready is you want to come through to eat,” she announced.

With one last squeeze of Bucky’s hand, Steve stood up and led the way to the kitchen which was immaculately clean but in need of some updating and repairs, just like the rest of the house. Sarah was putting out a large ceramic cooking pot onto the small table in the middle of the kitchen, and the smell of good home cooking made Bucky’s mouth water as he sat down.

Sarah dished out generous helpings of thick, dark stew and golden fluffy dumplings, serving Bucky first, then Steve, and then looking up at the secret service agent who had followed them all through to the kitchen and was standing by the kitchen door, watching.

“Agent Coulson,” Sarah Rogers said, using the voice that only mothers seemed to have. “I understand that you have a job to do and I respect that, but this is my home and it makes me very uncomfortable to have you stand there watching us eat.”

Phil Coulson shifted slightly on his feet, his brow creasing marginally. The man had been working for the secret service since Bucky had been a small child – he’d served through both of George Barnes’s terms and was now serving through his mother’s single term as President. Bucky had always like him. Phil Coulson had an almost fatherly disposition – protective and encouraging, but he took no shit and god help anyone who messed with his charges. Despite the fact that he was armed and could take down a man twice his size with one precision strike, Coulson was a good guy. He cleared his throat and shifted again.

“My apologies, ma’am,” Coulson replied quietly. “I wish there was something I could do to make this less intimidating for you, but I’m under orders not to let Mr Barnes out of my sight.”

Bucky looked at the table, feeling slightly embarrassed as Sarah just smiled.

“That’s not really what I meant,” she murmured, picking up a plate and dishing out a large helping of stew. “Come eat with us. There’s no point in you standing all the way over there while we stuff our faces.”

Coulson blinked as Sarah set down the plate of food at the empty place setting and picked up a plate for herself. Bucky grinned.

“C’mon, Coulson,” he said, nudging the chair with his foot.

The secret service agent seemed to hesitate for a second then, deciding it would be impolite to decline the food, walked over and pulled out the chair, sitting down awkwardly as though it was something he wasn’t used to doing, and picking up a fork.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he murmured, and Sarah Rogers smiled.

Bucky was starting to adore Sarah more with every passing minute. Steve smiled at him, already digging into his stew and dumplings as his mother sat down with her own plate of food. Side by side, the two really did look remarkably similar.

“So, Bucky,” Sarah began as she delicately broke a dumpling apart with her fork, “What are you all about, then? Have you finished school yet?”

“Yeah, I finished a while ago,” Bucky admitted. “I was home-schooled for the past three years so my curriculum was a little more accelerated than normal.”

“What he’s not telling you,” Steve interjected, “Is that he actually missed a huge chunk of a year off school. So not only has he finished ahead of schedule, but he’s finished about a year earlier than he should have.”

Bucky looked at Steve in surprise and received a grin that contained a small amount of pride. He’d never explicitly told Steve that he’d missed any schooling, although knowing that Bucky had to change schools and then spent a while in rehab clinic Steve must have done the calculations. Sarah looked impressed.

“That’s quite an achievement,” she replied. “Do you know what you want to do next? College?”

“Yeah, that seems like the next logical step.”

“Have you got any picked out yet?”

Bucky glanced at Coulson who was concentrating intently on his lunch. He didn’t know exactly what Coulson had to report on when Bucky was safely back at his Aunt’s place on an evening, but he knew that the agent was listening and remembering every word they said.

“My dad wants me to go to Johns Hopkins,” he said carefully. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Is it now?” Sarah replied, casting a glance at Steve who was happily munching a herb dumpling. “And where do you want to go?”

Bucky flinched. Sarah Rogers was astute.

It wasn’t as though Johns Hopkins wasn’t a good school with good opportunities; their engineering academy was one of the best, but there was only one problem – they didn’t offer the one degree Bucky really wanted.

He looked at Coulson again and sighed.

“I want to go to MIT,” he confessed. “I want to study Aerospace Engineering and that’s one of the only places in the country that I can do it.”

Sarah Rogers’ fair eyebrows arched upwards as she smiled at him.

“It has to be tough to go your own way when so many people have already mapped your life out for you,” she told him gently. “Just remember that it’s your life, not theirs – however well they mean, this is not their choice to make; only yours.”

Bucky looked up from his plate and smiled. She made it sound so easy to go against what was expected of him. Steve was so lucky to have a parent who fully supported and encouraged his decisions. He couldn’t imagine Sarah standing there, yelling at Steve about his responsibility to his family, or that leaving the safety net of their home would be the biggest mistake of his life. As much as they loved him, and he knew it, they were strong, powerful people and he’d never break out on his own without help. Bucky just wasn’t quite that strong yet.

“I’ll try,” he replied and turned back to his stew and dumplings, catching Steve’s gentle smile as Sarah turned her attention on her son.

 

****

 

Steve was absolutely stuffed after two helpings of lunch, his usually relatively flat stomach now definitely distended. Luckily, everybody else was the same – all sated and sleepy, massaging bellies and sighing happily as they collapsed onto the couches to have a break before dessert. Even Agent Coulson seemed generally less intimidating, slumped in the corner armchair as he kept an eye on them. He marvelled at his ma’s ability to reduce the scary secret service agent into an awkward, shuffling man and smiled to himself as he watched Bucky peruse the photographs on the coffee table to the side.

“Do you have a younger brother, Steve?” Bucky asked suddenly, picking up a picture in a dark wooden frame.

The photo was one of a beaming kid, camera held between both hands and an NYU baseball cap sitting too low on his head. It looked a lot like Steve – same eyes, same nose, same mouth; but the chin was sharper, the face more gaunt like he’d grown too fast in a short space of hime and his body hadn’t figured out how to pad out yet.

Steve laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling it start to heat up with embarrassment.

“Uh...no. No, I don’t. That’s...uh...that’s me.”

Bucky looked at him, blue-grey eyes widening.

“No way.”

Steve felt the heat rise in his face and glanced away.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled. “Not much to look at when I was eighteen, was I?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky replied, seriously. “Eighteen year old Steve is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! I would have been all over that!”

Steve didn’t know if he could even turn any redder – he must have been the exact shade of a tomato as he caught his mother’s smug grin from across the room.

“Steven was just a bit of a late bloomer,” she piped up, innocently.

“He was so cute!” Bucky replied, seemingly enjoying Steve’s embarrassment.

“Oh, I have lots more photographs in varying degrees of cuteness,” Sarah said, already starting to get up from her couch.

“Oh, ma...I don’t think Bucky is really interested in...”

“Hell yeah, I am!” Bucky interrupted, sitting up straight with enthusiasm.

Steve’s heart began to race as he felt the oncoming panic. The photo on his mother’s coffee table was one of the better ones – he looked skinny but that was the worst of it. The pictures in the photo albums his mother kept in her bedroom were full of things he would rather not show to anybody. Unfortunately, Sarah Rogers was already out of the room.

“Buck...” he murmured, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

Bucky just laughed, kindly.

“Don’t worry, Steve! They’re just baby pictures. I promise you, my mom will do the exact same thing.”

“Naw, Buck...you don’t understand,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “There are some things about me you don’t know yet – things I haven’t had time to tell you...”

Bucky’s brow creased slightly but he remained smiling.

“It can’t be that bad...”

He trailed off as Sarah re-entered the room with a fat photo album in her hands, grinning as she sat down again and patted the couch cushion next to her.

“Come, sit next to me.”

With one last look at Steve, Bucky smiled and switched couches, leaving Steve alone to watch with ever growing panic. If only they were just embarrassing photos of being a baby with no diaper on and spaghetti all over his face. Steve Rogers’s childhood photographs were so much worse than that.

Bucky’s smile slipped the second his grey-blue eyes saw the first page of the album, and Steve’s heart sank right along with it.

“I don’t have many from when he was a tiny baby,” his mother was saying, smiling fondly at the pictures glued to the pages. “It was a little hectic when he was first born...”

Steve knew exactly what was on the first page of that photo album – four old Polaroid pictures of a skinny, sickly infant in a large plastic incubator, countless tubes stuck into his stick-thin arms, an oxygen mask covering most of his tiny wrinkled face, and a white dressing that took up most of the sunken chest.

He’d been born with a hole in his heart, and he had been taken away from his mother seconds after birth and straight into surgery to repair it. The photos were horrific, but for some reason his ma was proud of them and displayed them along with her favourite photographs of her son.

“Oh...I love this one,” Sarah said as she turned the page. “That was just after Steve’s second heart operation. We couldn’t celebrate his birthday at home so they nurses threw him a little party on the ward.”

Steve looked pointedly at the floor, not wanting to see Bucky’s face as he saw the picture of a little blond three-year old with another large dressing in the centre of his chest, giggling as a nurse brought him a small cupcake with a candle.

They just went on and on – countless photographs of Steve in varying states of disability, from being hooked up to machines and oxygen tanks in hospital, to photos of him wearing embarrassingly thick spectacles and a hearing aid that looked too large for his skinny little head.

“Oh, Steve! This was the hearing aid that you got on your eighth birthday! Do you remember? The one with the little goldfish in the bowl?”

“Yeah, ma,” he whispered, still staring at his feet. “I remember.”

He didn’t know how he could ever forget being so proud of his fun and funky new hearing aid that his mother had saved up to get him, only to have it ripped from his head at school by older boys; being bullied and teased mercilessly for just trying to feel a little better about being forty percent deaf in one ear.

Steve had been tiny, skinny, and very sick for a lot of his life and it had been rough. After three operations, his heart had finally got its shit together even though Steve needed medicine to regulate his blood pressure, and his asthma had levelled out and become much more manageable by the time he hit sixteen. Steve had even sprouted in his later teenage years to reach his current height of six-foot-two, although it had taken him longer to put on weight and gain a bit of muscle. He’d only looked like this for a couple of years; had swapped his glasses for contacts and his large hearing aid for a tiny one that fit well inside his ear. 

Bucky was used to seeing Steve the way he was now and Steve didn't think he could stand it if he looked up and saw pity in Bucky's eyes. Steve was tough - Life had made sure of that. He could deal with all the things wrong with his body; had made it through life this far; could even put up with being ignored and ridiculed...but pity was the thing he hated most. All those well-meaning people, looking at his glasses and his hearing aid and trying to smile and be nice, when all the time Steve knew they were thinking 'poor kid'. It was a standard reaction to people that weren't 'right'.

Bucky was a sweet kid with a good heart. He would never be cruel, and he wasn't likely to turn his back on Steve for his illnesses and disabilities. Steve almost wished he would, because he would rather die than have somebody he cared so deeply for, pity him like Bucky was bound to do.

Steve jumped in surprise as the timer on the stove went off with a piercing beep, signalling that the crumble was cooked and leaving Steve with a thudding heart.

“I’ll just sort out dessert,” his mother said with a smile, setting the photo album aside and getting up from the couch.

Steve merely nodded, already resigned to the awkwardness that would linger in the room until she returned. He was so preoccupied with his own misery that he didn’t hear Bucky get up from the couch and cross the short expanse of floor; only aware he’d moved when he roughly grabbed Steve by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a hard kiss that knocked the breath out of Steve’s lungs like a punch.

Surprised, he stared wide-eyed as Bucky pulled back and grinned at him, hands still clenching Steve’s shirt.

“You know somethin’? If I thought you were pretty great before today, I just want you to know I think you’re amazing now,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s mouth dropped open but was unable to make any sound, his brain ceasing to function. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing – after all that; of seeing the photographs and knowing that Steve’s life had been one long string of sickness and troubles that would never fully go away; of knowing that Steve was broke and that he fucked up by trying to exploit Bucky all those weeks ago, Bucky somehow still liked him. It should have been impossible but there was Bucky - not a hint of pity in those grey-blue eyes but something else entirely, leaning in to kiss him again, more gently this time before casting a swift glance to the corner of the room.

“Sorry, Coulson,” Bucky murmured as he released Steve’s shirt and backed up to the other couch.

“I saw nothing,” the secret service agent replied quietly, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Steve was still processing it when his mother re-entered the room carrying a tray of crumble-filled dishes, Bucky and Coulson both acting like nothing at all had happened in the last couple of minutes. He felt like he was in some kind of alternate reality...and he kinda liked it.

 

****

 

Bucky had to admit he’d been shocked when he’d seen the first photographs in Sarah Rogers’s album. He’d been expecting the usual kind of baby photos – the type his own mother had of Bucky and his sister, running around the garden in the summer with no clothes on and the garden hose in hand; of birthday parties and terrible haircuts and chubby cheeks. Steve’s baby photos had been nothing like his own, showing Bucky a kid who had gone through a different kind of Hell and kept going. Little Steve Rogers had smiled and laughed and kept going through heart operations and pneumonia and what Bucky could only imagine as being a terrible school experience reserved especially for the kids that weren’t like everybody else.

Steve Rogers was tough and capable, strong-willed and kind-hearted; the sort of guy who would pick a passed out kid up off the street and give him a place to stay and the kind of fella who would blush from head to toe at a single suggestive wink. In other words, Steve Rogers was the kind of person that Bucky Barnes was falling hard and fast for with every new thing he learned.

They were quiet, sitting in the back of the black service car on the short journey from Steve’s mother’s place to his friend’s apartment, Bucky running his thumb gently over the back of Steve’s hand. He’d never noticed it before, but now he knew it was there Bucky couldn’t stop staring at the tiny beige hearing aid sitting just inside of Steve’s right ear.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Steve turned his head away from the car window and gave Bucky a watery smile.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just been...a bit of an unexpected day.”

“I know what you mean,” Bucky replied. “But it’s been a good kind of unexpected.”

Steve laughed and Bucky had to stop himself from leaning forward to kiss the ear tip that had started to turn pink.

“I’m just...not used to having these things about me being accepted,” he murmured. “Peggy is the only person in my life so far who liked me when I was...not the way I am now. Everybody else kinda made fun of me or ignored me completely. And as for romantic relationships...well, you can imagine they’ve been thin on the ground.”

“Why?” Bucky asked.

As far as he was concerned, Steve Rogers had always been nothing but a solid ten with razor-sharp sarcasm and a kindness that couldn’t be contained. The thought that anybody would pass him over didn’t even want to be entertained.

Steve on the other hand, gave Bucky a smile tinged with bitterness.

“Buck...nobody wants a half deaf, half blind, stubborn idiot with asthma and a heart condition.”

Bucky looked at him steadily, shifting his body on the soft grey leather car seat and reached out to take hold of Steve’s jacket,

“I do,” he replied, simply. “I want you.”

Steve’s sky blue eyes studied Bucky’s face carefully, looking for any sign or hint that Bucky was messing with him, but he found none there. Slowly, Steve smiled at him, his eyes creasing at the corners as he leaned in and allowed Bucky to kiss him; softly, slowly, and very thoroughly as the car rolled to a stop outside of Peggy Carter’s apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah is speaking Irish Gaelic for some of this. A couple of words mentioned were:  
> *a mhuirnín - darling  
> *a leanbh - my child


	5. Chapter 5

“WAKE UP!”

Bucky startled awake at the loud female voice screaming in his ear, heart beating fast as his eyes snapped open and tried to adjust to the glaring light coming through the open curtains. He had no time to recover and gather his wits before his mattress began moving, jolting him up and down rudely.

‘Wake up! Wake up! Wake the fuck up, Barnes, you lazy fucking brat!”

Blinking and shielding his eyes from the harsh light, Bucky narrowed his field of vision enough to recognise the woman bouncing up and down on his bed, grinning like a cheerful maniac.

“Darcy?”

“Fuck yeah!” replied the President’s personal aide as she continued jumping on Bucky’s bed.

“What the hell?”

“I have been up since the most ungodly fucking hour, being a personal courier for your mother and bringing up some papers that need signing, all the way from Washington DC. If I’m up, you have to be up since it’s all about your stupid fucking boyfriend!”

Bucky groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands as Darcy finally stopped bouncing and collapsed next to him on the covers. His mother’s personal aide was a terminally cheerful, sarcastic mess of dark curly hair, red lipstick, and figure-hugging dresses with a mouth on her like a sailor. However, Darcy Lewis was possibly the brightest, sharpest, most confident young woman in the White House and knew how to get things done, which was why she was Presidential Aide. Bucky’s mother trusted the woman with her life, and obviously with the documents Steve needed to sign that would bind him against selling or leaking any personal photos of the President’s son or any of the family.

Darcy Lewis was only a handful of years older than him, and the fact that she treated him in exactly the same way as she treated everyone else had made Bucky like her almost instantly. Almost everyone else in the White House danced around Bucky like he was made of glass and looked at him either as somebody to be pitied, or somebody who’d deserved everything he’d got. It had been refreshing to have loud, brash Darcy cheerfully swearing at him like ‘fuck’ was an acceptable word in polite society.

Brain suddenly kicking into gear, Bucky had a thought - if Darcy Lewis was here then...

“Does that mean Steve passed the vetting procedure?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Well yeah, I guess so,” Darcy replied. “Your mom didn’t send me all the way to New York to go shopping...unfortunately.”

Bucky squeaked with relief and joy as he threw back his covers and snatched up his phone to text Steve.

“Your aunt has already sent the car for Lover Boy, so he’d better be up,” said Darcy, swinging her legs gently over the edge of Bucky’s bed.

“His name is Steve,” Bucky corrected her, shaking fingers typing a message.

He hadn’t expected Steve’s vetting process to go so fast, but then again it had been requested by the President of the United States so they would have worked at top speed. Bucky supposed that the more time he spent with Steve would be bad if they’d found something they didn’t like – the more time they spent together, the harder it could have been to separate them...especially after what Bucky had learned the day before.

Bucky had adored Sarah Rogers from the moment he met her – the woman radiated love and warmth and acceptance, and she had treated Bucky and even Coulson with kindness and interest. His own parents wouldn’t ever be quite so welcoming to Steve. It would be more like the Spanish Inquisition than a friendly meal to meet their son’s new boyfriend, with everything Steve said or had ever done in his life being drawn out and dissected in a long interrogation. Hopefully though, that wouldn’t happen for some time.

Message sent, he was jolted back to reality by Darcy sharply clapping his hands and disturbing his staring into nothingness.

“C’mon, fucknugget!” she exclaimed with a wide grin. “Get dressed and tell me the whole Steve story over breakfast mimosas - I'm running on second hand information here and I can't fucking stand it anymore!"

 

****

 

This was the second time that Steve had been stuck in a car with Agent Coulson and although he was a considerable amount less nervous, it didn’t make the situation any less awkward.

Steve had been up for all of ten minutes when he’d received Bucky’s text informing him that his Aunt’s car was on the way to pick him up and bring him to the Upper East Side to sign his papers. What kind of documents they were, Steve really had no idea. He guessed there would be something to make sure he didn’t sell or leak any pictures of Bucky or his family – that was the most obvious, especially with him working for a news agency that had influence. Fury wouldn’t be interested in anything like that unless it ranked high on the scale of being newsworthy, but there were plenty of magazines, gossip blogs, and tabloids who would pay. Not that Steve would ever do that anyway – he hadn’t been able to sell pictures of Bucky when he was just a kid he met on the street, so there would be no way he could now they were dating. He just didn’t have it in him to be heartless.

“I bet you’re happy you won’t have to babysit all the time and make sure we’re keeping out of trouble,” Steve said, turning to Coulson who was gazing out of the car window.

Coulson looked at him, his face blank as always.

Steve couldn’t quite figure the man out. He obviously took his job to protect Bucky very seriously, seeming like a man who followed orders to the letter. Yet when Bucky had kissed Steve in his mother’s lounge, Coulson had acted as though he’d seen nothing rather than reprimand them for it. Steve believed the man to be actually fond of Bucky, willing to let some things slide for the sake of his happiness.

“Is that what you think I do?” Coulson asked, calmly. “Babysit?”

Steve felt his face begin to heat and he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh...well...that wasn’t quite what I meant...”

“I know what you meant,” replied Coulson, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “I’m only messing with you.”

Steve blinked once, and then sighed in relief.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly. “I appreciate it.”

Coulson’s mouth twitched into a full smile for a couple of seconds before fading again.

“I know you’ve been thrown into all this without really knowing or understanding what’s going on,” Coulson said quietly. “You don’t realise how different it is for people like THEM – life isn’t quite as simple. If you make a mistake, maybe a handful of people know it but if one of them makes a mistake, the whole world knows and they twist and distort the truth.”

Steve looked at his knees and nodded.

“I understand that.”

“No you don’t,” replied Coulson, not unkindly. “You can’t possibly understand, because that’s not where you’ve come from.”

The agent shifted in his seat so that he was facing Steve properly and sighed.

“After yesterday, I can see that you’ve dealt with crap for your whole life, but it’s a different kind of crap than what he’s put up with. What you don’t understand is that, until the end of his mother’s term as President, you will both be followed about and photographed whether you know it or not, and people are going to dig into your past and write bullshit about you. And you’re going to have to ignore it. Luckily, President Barnes’ term is almost over and after that, nobody is going to give half a damn about what her son is up to anymore, so neither of you will have to put up with it for long.”

Steve’s eyes dropped again. He was at a complete loss for words – Peggy had warned him that he had no idea what he was in for and she was right. Steve really did have no idea what it was like to be Bucky – to have your heartache plastered all over the papers and the internet and to have people writing hurtful things about you. He didn’t know how Bucky still remained they way he was – sweet and good and kind in spite of everything.

Next to him, Coulson smiled again and settled back against the leather of the car seat.

“Now I'm only telling you this because your mother makes the best stew I ever tasted,” he murmured. “And I'm in a good mood...and I know she'd kick your ass harder than the grand jury ever could if you do anything stupid. So you sign those documents, not because it's necessary to make sure you behave yourself - we both know you've got more at stake than being sued. You sign them because that kids parents have been through a lot to keep him safe and they need to know they've done all they can to protect him this time.”

Steve looked at him and nodded. This wasn’t just about him and he understood that now.

“Yes, sir,” he replied quietly as Coulson nodded once and turned his attention back to the view outside the car window.

Bucky was worth it, he told himself. It was worth going through all this to keep that sweet kid safe and happy.

 

****

 

If Steve was honest with himself, he’d expected the signing of official documents to be overseen by some middle-aged bureaucrat so he was more than surprised when an insanely beautiful young woman with a predatory grin sauntered over to him, a smiling Bucky just behind her.

“Steve, this is Darcy Lewis – my mother’s personal aide. Darcy this is Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve replied immediately, holding out his hand for her to shake.

Darcy Lewis looked down at his hand, and then her dark eyes travelled up to his face and then slowly roamed over his entire body to his shoes, and back up again. The action made Steve feel more than a little uncomfortable and it wasn’t just because he knew his shirt had a small hole at the hem. Eventually, Darcy Lewis took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Steve,” she drawled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” Steve replied, rubbing the back of his neck again.

Bucky grinned at him from over Darcy’s shoulder.

“There isn’t anything bad to say,” he murmured.

Steve felt his cheeks colour again.

Bucky looked particularly gorgeous as always – the navy of his soft, expensive-looking sweater making the grey-blue of his eyes even more striking than usual and his dark hair seemed soft and fluffy and touchable. Unfortunately there were more pressing matters to attend to than getting his hands in his boyfriend’s hair. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the President’s aide.

“I hear you have some papers for me to sign.”

The change in Darcy Lewis’s demeanour was immediate and surprising. The leering smile disappeared as she straightened and turned on her heel, heading towards the breakfast table by the window that looked out onto Central Park. A man, presumably a lawyer, was patiently sat waiting for them.

“Sure, there’s a few,” she replied. “I’ve been told to make sure you read them thoroughly so you understand what you’re being held to before you sign everything.”

Steve shrugged.

“I’ll sign whatever you want me to,” he replied.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, sliding his hand into Steve’s and giving it a squeeze. “As sweet as that is, it’s both dumb and unethical to let you do that.”

Steve gave him a wry smile. His conversation with Coulson in the car had possibly made him a little too enthusiastic about it all. Bucky was right – this was a big step and signing his life away without thinking and reading the small print would be the worst thing he could do. I owed it to himself, and Bucky and his family, to make sure everything was properly in order and that signing these papers wouldn’t damage anything or anyone.

It took forever – much longer than Steve had anticipated. He thought he’d just be sitting down and scribbling his signature on a few sheets of paper, but he was faced with many pages of detailed contracts, each meticulously explained to him by the lawyer until Steve’s head felt like it was about to explode. He was glad Bucky was sitting there with him, holding Steve’s hand under the table and chipping in with a question or asking for clarification on the occasional clause. Steve was almost ready to jump out of the window by the time he signed his name for the final time.

“I hope I never have to do that ever again,” he muttered, sitting back in his chair heavily.

“Poor baby,” Bucky replied with a grin, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Steve’s cheek. “You did great.”

Steve smiled back and squeezed Bucky’s hand as Darcy and the lawyer packed up all the papers and prepared to leave.

“Hopefully, this is all you’ll ever have to sign,” Darcy said as she bundled the contracts into a briefcase. “So...what are you boys going to do now that your time no longer needs to be chaperoned?”

Bucky grinned.

“Oh, you know...this and that.”

Darcy snorted as she pulled on her coat.

“Of course,” she replied.

Bucky smiled at her as she picked up the briefcase and sighed.

“Well, I guess it’s back to the White House for me. I don’t even get to go shoe shopping.”

“I’ll get Aunt Helen to send you a pair of Jimmy Choos,” Bucky laughed.

“You better!” she enthused, dark eyes lighting up and that wide grin back on her berry-painted lips as she leaned over to kiss Bucky lightly on the cheek. “Take fucking care of yourself, fucknugget.”

“You too, Darcy.”

“See ya, Steve!”

She winked at him as she passed, briefcase in hand and Steve avoided eye contact.

“Yeah...you too,” he managed.

His eyes stayed firmly on the view outside as Darcy and the lawyer left, until Bucky shifted closer and turned Steve’s head to face him with a gentle hand.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured, his eyes soft. “I know that couldn’t have been an easy thing to do.”

“Well,” Steve replied with a grin. “I haven’t actually had to sign anything to be allowed to date a person before. It’s been a novel experience.”

“With any luck, you’ll never have to do it again.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve murmured, reaching up to stroke Bucky’s hair back behind his ear. “I’d sign this shit a hundred times over if it kept you safe and your family happy. You’re absolutely worth it.”

Bucky bit his lip as his smile widened, cheeks turning pale pink as he leaned forward to kiss Steve softly. It was not much more than a chaste brush of lips against his but it was one of the sweetest kisses Steve had ever experienced.

“So...” Bucky murmured as he drew back, mouth still mere inches from Steve’s. “I gotta ask if you’re cool with meeting a friend of mine for lunch.”

“Sure I am,” replied Steve with a smile. “I’d love to meet anybody you wanna introduce me to.”

Bucky’s smile turned to a grin and his grey-blue eyes sparkled.

“You might regret saying that,” he replied.

 

****

 

The Russian Tea Room was every bit as opulent as Steve had expected it to be, all plush red and black and gold, and Steve felt incredibly out of place as he sat down at one of the highly polished tables. Bucky looked like he belonged there – head held high and confident in his own skin, looking the part in his soft navy designer sweater and jeans. Even though Steve had shaved and styled his hair as best he could, there was no way her could hide that his pants were a couple of years old and his pale blue plaid shirt at a hole at the hem. He must have looked like a pauper in comparison to Bucky.

It all got worse while they waited for Bucky’s friend and Steve glanced at the menu, his heart almost stopping when he looked at the prices – the cheapest appetizer was twenty dollars and they only got increasingly more expensive.

“I uh...think I might just get a glass of water,” he said, only half joking.

Bucky smiled at him from across the table.

“Don’t be silly,” he replied. “You can have anything you want – I’m treating you today.”

Steve managed a watery smile in return. Bucky really was an incredibly sweet kid, but he had no idea how uncomfortable Steve felt in places like this or how wrong it seemed to spend twenty dollars on a bowl of soup.

“I don’t really know what half of this stuff even is.”

Most of the food sounded ridiculously decadent – foie gras and consommé, gravlax and blinis, and a whole range of dishes he couldn’t even pronounce.

“I can give you some recommendations if you’ve having trouble deciding,” said an unfamiliar voice – female and young.

Steve looked up from his menu to find a beautiful red-haired woman studying him with sharp green eyes; a playful smirk playing on her lips.

“Uh....” Steve replied as Bucky immediately jumped to his feet and moved to hug her.

“You’re late, Nat.”

The woman shrugged and kissed Bucky’s cheek gently before sliding gracefully into the chair directly opposite Steve.

“It’s an occupational hazard when you work for Stark – you tend to run late to things.”

Bucky grinned at her and then turned to Steve.

“Steve, this is my best friend in the whole world, Natalia Romanova. Nat, this is my...boyfriend, Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” the woman replied, extending her hand across the table. “Yasha hasn’t shut up about you for the last month.”

Steve glanced at Bucky just as he ducked his head to hide pink cheeks and a smile.

“That may be a slight exaggeration, Nat...”

“No it’s not,” she replied cheerfully before giving Steve her full attention. “You do know that your boyfriend is pure trouble, right Steve?”

Natalia smirked at him, leaning forward on the table. She had that same air of confidence as Bucky did; that same playfulness that reminded Steve of a cat toying with a mouse, but he liked her immediately and it eased some of the nerves he felt about being in such a high-class establishment. Grinning, he leaned in, mirroring her.

“Pure trouble?” he replied. “As in one hundred percent, unadulterated trouble?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well,” Steve replied with a dramatic sigh. “I kinda had the feeling the kid was bad news.”

“Oh, he’s the worst,” Nat enthused. “I have some stories...”

Beside him, Bucky put his head in his hands and laughed.

“I knew it was a bad plan to let you two meet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve replied with a grin. “Natalia, I would love to hear some of these stories.”

“Please, call me Natasha,” she said. “And I will tell you all about Trouble here, as soon as we order lunch. I’m starved!”

Steve put his order in Natasha’s hands, allowing her to pick out an appetizer and entree for him out of the list of complicated and decadent dishes, ending up with Blinchik followed by Vareniki. He was surprised when the only drink ordered was ice water, fully expecting champagne or even vodka to accompany the Russian food, but then he realised that he was the only person at the table old enough to legally drink alcohol.

He could instantly tell that Natasha was somebody Bucky thought very highly of – the way he glanced at her every time Steve said something so he could see her reaction. In a way, Steve thought that her approval of Steve meant more to Bucky than the approval of any family member, including his aunt. Thankfully, Natasha already seemed to like him and although he could tell that those sharp green eyes were studying his every move very closely, Steve was feeling more relaxed and at ease than he’d felt since he arrived here.

“So, Steve,” Natasha said, turning back to him as the waiter left with their lunch order. “You live in Rome? What’s that like?”

Steve smiled at her.

“It has its moments,” he replied. “But I’m thinking of making a change...moving back here, maybe?”

He stole a glance at Bucky and his foot received a soft nudge under the table in response.

“Really?” Natasha murmured with a smirk. “I can’t image what might have prompted that idea.”

Steve blushed slightly and shrugged.

“There were a couple of things,” he admitted.

She smiled knowingly at Bucky and reached for her glass of ice water.

“I’ve never been to Rome,” Natasha mused, changing the subject.

“You probably never will either, at the rate Stark has you working!” laughed Bucky from beside him.

Steve frowned.

“Stark?”

“Tony Stark,” Bucky clarified. “Stark Enterprises Tony Stark.”

“The weapons manufacturer?”

“Former,” corrected Natasha. “And actually, I work for Pepper Potts, but since _she_ works for Stark then I’m pretty much subject to his hours...which are sporadic and usually involve needing to be somewhere at 1am.”

Natasha’s mouth twisted in disapproval and Steve could easily see why. Stark had a reputation for being eccentric and a law unto himself as only billionaires were. As philanthropic as the man was and good to his employees, it was rumoured that he could be a nightmare to work _with_.

“It’s only until the end of the summer,” Natasha sighed eventually, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Anyway – what do you two have planned for as long as Steve is here?”

Bucky glanced at him and smiled, reaching for Steve’s hand under the table and linking their fingers together gently.

“Well, Steve passed his vetting and signed all the paperwork this morning, so I guess we’re free to do whatever we want for a while.”

Steve hadn’t really thought about what they would do or how things would change once he’d signed all of the President’s documents. He’d honestly expected his vetting to take longer than it had and he’d contented himself with the knowledge that he’d spend the next few days under the watchful eye of Agent Coulson, stealing kisses and grazing fingers when they found a single unobserved second. The thought that they didn’t have to do that anymore left Steve feeling surprised and slightly breathless.

Although the Russian Tea Room wasn’t spectacularly busy or noisy, Steve found the conversation a little difficult to follow when Bucky and Natasha fell into a pattern of fast-paced, quick-fire banter. His hearing aid was pretty good and he never had much trouble any more, but it hurt his neck to look from one to the other so he could hear properly and he found himself slightly zoning out, staring at his glass of water until Bucky squeezed his hand and apologised when Steve focussed on him again. Steve couldn’t blame Bucky – he’d known about the issue for less than twenty four hours so he expected Bucky to forget.

Once the food arrived, things got easier for him. Natasha was a great storyteller, a master at setting the scene and she soon had Steve laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks and people around them tittered in disapproval. The Bucky she told him about was very much like the kid he’d met that day in Rome – incredibly cute but brave, daring, adventurous, and more than a little mischievous.

“So there we were: middle of the night in a blistering hot summer, down to our underwear with the windows thrown open and still too hot when suddenly Yasha turns to me with eyes as big a dinner plates and says ‘I bet the river is nice and cool...I’m gonna go jump in it.’”

Steve grinned as he glanced at Bucky who was innocently sipping at his ice water.

“Jumping in rivers seems to be a recurring trend.”

Bucky winked at him.

“I usually don’t jump from a height though.”

“Or with clothes on!” Natasha added, which caused Steve to burst out laughing again.

“Don’t tell me you jumped into a fast-moving river butt-naked, Buck.”

Bucky grinned as he gave Steve an easy shrug.

“Well, I was hot. What did you expect me to do?”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself!” Natasha exclaimed, but she was smiling.

“It was barely waist-deep, Tasha!”

“I’m just wondering,” Steve said, leaning over the table towards Bucky. “Do you make a habit of jumping into every river you come across?”

Bucky sat forward and smirked, grey-blue eyes playful.

“In my defence, you pulled me into the last one.”

Steve tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

“You have a point.”

“So I was wet, but not naked.”

“I’m going to have to find a way to change that,” Steve replied softly.

He’d said it without thinking and the second it was out of his mouth, Steve felt the heat rise in his face again. He bit his bottom lip as he watched Bucky’s smirk turn dirty, those light eyes darken as his pupils dilated fast and darted to look at Steve’s mouth. Now all Steve could think about in the middle of an expensive restaurant was getting Bucky naked and very sweaty.

He’d almost forgotten Natasha was even there until he caught the flash of red hair in the corner of his eye as she stood up.

“Well Steve, it’s been an absolute pleasure but this might be a great time for me to bow out.”

With what seemed like considerable effort, Bucky tore his eyes away from Steve’s mouth and turned his head towards Natasha as she kissed him on the cheek and grinned.

“James, I want all the details when you two finally make good on all the eye fucking going on here.”

Bucky snorted and ducked his head to hide the grin that almost split is face in two as Natasha waved casually and headed out. Steve’s face burned even hotter at her comment and lowered his eyes from Bucky’s beautiful, smiling face. Now that he’d started thinking about it, all he wanted was to get Bucky alone again; to kiss him and run his hands through that fluffy dark hair; to pull Bucky’s body close...

“So...” Bucky murmured, breaking through Steve’s reverie. “Your place or mine, Rogers?”

Steve looked up and smiled slowly.

“Yours.”

Bucky looked at him for a moment longer before finally tearing his eyes away and hailing a passing waiter.

“Check, please.”

 

****

 

Bucky knew the apartment would be empty with Aunt Helen at some kind of charity thing until late, but he called her name as he led Steve out of the elevator and into the apartment’s lobby. Mid-afternoon sunlight was streaming brightly through the high windows, turning the gently floating dust in the air to specks of gold as Bucky gently tugged Steve behind him by the hand, ears straining for a response.

“I guess nobody is home,” he murmured, coming to a halt as he turned and draped his arms over Steve’s shoulders.

“I guess not,” Steve replied.

Bucky grinned as Steve’s hands snuck up under his jacket to rest just above Bucky’s hips.

“Alone at last.”

Steve smiled back as Bucky reached up and placed a soft kiss on Steve’s lips. This was the first time they’d been alone together since that night in Rome, and Bucky had almost forgotten the feel of Steve’s mouth on his; the gentle grip of Steve’s hands on his body. Bucky sighed contentedly as he drew back from the kiss and looked into Steve’s sky-blue eyes. His face was already lightly flushed; a rose-gold glow that highlighted the light constellation of freckles across Steve’s cheeks and nose. Bucky wanted to kiss every single one of them.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Steve nodded, hands sliding further around Bucky’s waist and drawing him in by the small of his back, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. Despite that moment of heated flirtation in the Russian Tea Room, the quiet ride home in the back of Aunt Helen’s car had given them time to cool down. They’d had held hands for the whole journey, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling shyly. Their chemistry may have been off the charts, but this was still all new to them both.

“Yeah,” Steve murmured in reply. “I just...I’ve never done any of this before.”

“Me neither,” confessed Bucky. “Despite the bad reputation I seem to have accumulated, I’m actually still a virgin.”

He was glad he was. Bucky almost lost his virginity three years earlier to the worst person imaginable, and would have had to live with that had it not been for a desk clerk notifying the police. He didn’t know if he would have been glad or happy about it at the time, but years of therapy and reflection had made Bucky realise that his recovery would have never gone as well if he’d done it. Bucky had dodged a bullet and in so doing, it allowed him the freedom to explore and experience things in his own time with whoever he chose.

Steve looked at him steadily from behind long dark lashes and sighed gently.

“So am I.”

Bucky blinked once – part of him was surprised, but after the revelations of the day before, not as surprised as he could have been. Steve had admitted to him that he hadn’t had many, if any, relationships before meeting Bucky, so in a way it made a wonderful kind of sense. Smiling, Bucky tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s chin.

“See? We’re both new to this.”

Steve smiled back as Bucky unwound one arm from Steve’s neck and stroked a section of short blonde hair behind Steve’s ear – the one with the tiny hearing aid.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? We’ll take everything as slow as you need to.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh.

“Aren’t I meant to be the one saying that to you?” he asked.

Bucky scoffed gently.

“Steve, please – believe me when I say that I made up my mind a long time ago that I wanted to do a lot of things to, and with you. I am more than ready to do them, but only if and when you want to do them too.”

Still flushed with pupils growing wider and darker by the minute, Steve’s lips quirked up at one corner.

“And what kind of things would those be, Mister Barnes?”

Bucky’s fingers curled into the shorter hairs at the back of Steve’s head and he bit his bottom lip gently to restrain his grin.

“Well, Mister Rogers,” Bucky murmured playfully, leaning in to gently nip at Steve’s lower lip for a second. “The first thing I want to do – and I mean the very first thing – is to kiss you so hard and for so long you become breathless. I want your hands in my hair, your lips on my throat and my neck; your body on mine and your breath on my skin. I want to do that for so long that we lose time, and you can’t remember what life was like before you started to kiss me...and you don’t want to think of life when you stop.”

With a smug satisfaction, Bucky noticed that Steve’s breathing had become shallower and quicker as he’d talked, the flush on his face spreading down under the collar of his t-shirt and up to the tips of his ears. Steve swallowed shakily.

“And here was me thinking you were supposed to be this sweet, innocent kid...”

“Who the fuck told you that?” Bucky replied with amusement, barely finishing his sentence before Steve closed the gap between them and kissed Bucky hard.

 

It was nothing like the first time they’d been alone together, back in Steve’s crappy single room apartment in Rome. Back then they had taken it slow – sweet, lingering kisses and gentle touches, only touching whatever skin was on show and trying to make the whole experience last as long as possible because they knew their time together was limited. Now, they had all the time in the world and no incentive at all to go steadily.

Their kisses were hard and messy, Steve’s tongue brushing roughly against Bucky’s as they stumbled and bumped their way through the apartment to find something to lie on. The couch was closest and Bucky wasted no time in pulled Steve down onto it and over him, Steve’s body settling between Bucky’s open thighs. Steve’s mouth was hot and wet, working steadily over Bucky’s jaw and down the side of his neck, softly sucking and kissing at the delicate skin of Bucky’s throat, teeth tugging gently at his ear lobe.

Bucky moaned loudly, hands insistently pushing Steve’s t-shirt aside to roam up over his stomach and sides. For all that Steve had been underweight until a few years ago, his body showed no signs of it now. He wasn’t exactly a Greek statue but he was close enough – all broad shoulders and narrow waist, flat stomach and tits that fit perfectly into Bucky’s hands. Bucky delighted in the soft, muffled moan Steve made against Bucky’s neck as Bucky gently tugged at Steve’s right nipple before getting back to work sucking marks onto Bucky’s skin with renewed enthusiasm.

Steve’s hands were in Bucky’s hair, grasping at short strands and tugging his head this way and that so he could gain easier access to Bucky’s neck, thoroughly working one side until Bucky’s skin was numb and tingling before moving onto the other. Bucky was in heaven, gasping and moaning at Steve’s attentions while his own hands moved freely under Steve’s clothes, tracing every curve and palming every muscle he could reach. Fingers slid beneath the waistband of Steve’s jeans and Bucky grinned as he was rewarded with another sharp gasp. The tightness of his jeans and the friction caused by the slide of thick denim was delicious, Bucky pulling Steve’s body closer to his with his hands on Steve’s perfect ass. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“Your shirt needs to come off,” Bucky growled into Steve’s ear as his fingers firmly grasped the hem of his shirt.

Steve let out something that sounded a lot like a whimper before extracting himself from the warmth of Bucky’s neck, pushing himself up onto his hands and looking down. His face and neck were flushed rose, highlighting the freckles across his nose and the golden glow of his slightly tanned skin, and Bucky was quite positive he’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

“Only if yours comes off too,” Steve panted in reply.

Bucky grinned.

“I thought you’d never ask...”

He was surprised nothing ripped with the haste and enthusiasm of which they relieved each other of their clothing, Bucky pulling Steve’s shirt and the t-shirt underneath off together, Steve’s chin getting caught in the soft cotton neck, blond hair standing up with static when his head was finally free. It was worth it though to see Steve kneeling there between his legs; to finally see what he looked like under his clothes.

Bucky’s eyes traced a path upwards, from sharp hipbones jutting just above the waistband of Steve’s jeans and the soft, fair line of fuzz that trailed up across the flat belly to a chest that was the product of some decent gym work, producing firm, toned pectorals. Sitting right between them might have been Bucky’s favourite part of Steve – a long, white scar that ran down his sternum, thick and jagged from multiple heart surgeries. Bucky raised his hand and traced the scar with his fingers, smiling at Steve’s shaky breath as he watched Bucky lean forward and place a soft kiss against the sensitive skin.

“You know you’re so beautiful, right?” he murmured, lips still pressed gently to the scar on Steve’s chest.

Bucky felt the soft laugh that rippled through Steve’s belly.

“You know you’re so full of crap, right?” Steve retaliated.

A grin spread across Bucky’s face and he tilted his head back, eyes meeting Steve’s as his hair was tenderly brushed back from his face...and then they were kissing again, Bucky’s arms wrapping tightly around Steve’s shoulders and legs encircling Steve’s hips, pulling him back down.

This was better – the feel of Steve’s skin against his own; soft and warm and smooth. They rocked against each other, Bucky’s ankles hooked over the back of Steve’s calves, knees gripping Steve’s hips and his hands sliding further down Steve’s waistband than the tightness of the denim should have allowed. Steve’s mouth moved down from Bucky’s neck, leaving a hot, wet trail on his skin that quickly formed goosebumps as it cooled. Bucky groaned as Steve’s hands ran firm down his body, squeezing Bucky’s sides as they moved over his hips and Steve’s fingers dug into the thick denim of Bucky’s pockets, pulling his jeans down a little.

“I’m more than willing to take these off too,” Bucky murmured, tilting his hips up slightly.

Steve’s eyes were huge and dark when he looked up.

“Really?”

Bucky could have laughed.

“God, Steve – I’ve been wanting your hands all over me forever. Just take my fucking pants off already!”

Steve did laugh – a half-nervous chuckle huffed against the hollow of Bucky’s throat as he dipped his head. There was a pause of only a few seconds before Steve’s fingers released the fabric of Bucky’s pockets and started working on the buttons with fumbling fingers, head raised and mouth searching for Bucky’s once again. They kissed, wet and sloppy with their attention focussed primarily on getting their pants undone, fingers sometimes occupied with their own buttons and sometimes occupied with the other’s until finally they each had enough undone to pull and push the clothing away.

Bucky forgot to be gentle as he dragged Steve’s jeans down over that perfect ass, arching his own back so that Steve could do the same to him. He felt almost frantic, desperate to feel Steve’s hands on him. Their jeans only made it down as far as the tops of their thighs before Bucky reached down and wrapped his hand around Steve’s dick, delighting in the sharp gasp his boyfriend made.

“Fuck...” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips.

“Mmmm...” agreed Bucky.

He ran his hand up the smooth, hard shaft, paying attention to its length and girth and being thoroughly thrilled with both. Steve panted into Bucky’s mouth, breath hot and sharp as he tried to figure out what to do with his own hands. After a few agonising seconds, Bucky finally had what he wanted as Steve’s hand found its way down between their bodies, wrapping firmly around Bucky’s hard dick.

They seemed to move purely on instinct; no technique or finesse to their movements as they stroked each other. It was hard and fast, wet and messy with nothing but spit to make it go smoother. Bucky didn’t care – even the slight friction burn of skin moving fast over skin was perfect to him; Steve’s hand tugging and pulling him into a panting, moaning mess of pleasure. Neither of them lasted long but it didn’t matter as they came hot and fast within seconds of each other, come coating hands and bellies and accompanied by muffled sounds of blissful release.

“Fuck...” breathed Bucky, ruffling the back of Steve’s hair with his fingers as Steve nestled his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Yeah...” Steve whispered in reply.

His breath ghosted across Bucky’s skin, harsh and fast at first but slowly evening out as they lay together. Bucky felt blissfully happy with Steve curled into him, head pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky’s hands stroking the skin on his back and sides soothingly. It was only good for a minute or two, until the hot come on their skin cooled and became sticky and uncomfortable. Bucky burst out laughing.

“Oh my god. Aunt Helen is gonna fucking kill us if we’ve messed up her expensive couch.”

“Ah, shit,” Steve mumbled, pulling himself up and away from Bucky with a slight grimace. “I don’t wanna get on your Aunt’s bad side. She could probably kill me with her fingernail.”

Bucky grinned at him.

“We’d best clean up before she finds out, then.”

Flushed and happy, they cleaned themselves up and best as they could and pulled their clothes back on, giggling every time they caught each other’s eye until they collapsed back onto the couch, Bucky pulling Steve to him as Steve nuzzled into the warmth of Bucky’s neck again.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured, his lips grazing Steve’s hair. “You wanna watch a movie or somethin’?”

Steve shifted, lifting his head from its cradle on Bucky’s shoulder, his sky-blue eyes huge and dark.

“Sure,” Steve replied.

He smiled as he tilted his face upwards to kiss Bucky again, lips soft and inviting. It was at least another hour before they got around to watching anything at all.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was far too chipper for that time in the morning, standing in the Starbucks line, bouncing on the balls of his feet with Coulson beside him. He was still walking on air from the day before and that incredible make-out session with Steve on the couch that had evolved into getting each other off with pants around their thighs. It had been heavy and hot and utterly perfect, both of them shaking in each other’s arms for a long time afterwards as they got their breath back.

He’d hated it when Steve had finally gone home – late at night after too many crappy movies, snuggled into each other on the couch and picking at food from the refrigerator. Bucky had never had that before. All of his previous sexual experience had been rushed and one-sided, kept secret from the world until Steve had happened to him. Bucky had barely slept a wink, replaying it all in his mind and thinking about what he wanted to do with Steve next; all the time looking forward to the part where Steve would hold Bucky in his arms afterwards, kissing his skin and stroking his hair, making Bucky know for sure that he was loved and wanted.

Which was how he found himself waiting for coffee with the usual Brooklyn commuters at this time of the morning, excited to surprise Steve with ridiculously overpriced coffee and to leave Coulson behind for once. Scanning the boards behind the counter, he flashed the barista a beautiful smile as he placed his order.

“Hey! Can I get an iced caramel latte with an extra shot, aaaaaand.....”

Bucky paused, suddenly aware that he had no idea how Steve liked his coffee. In Rome they’d drank Cafe Shakerato but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what Steve had ordered in that small Brooklyn cafe just a few days ago.

“Screw it,” he said with a shrug. “Just give me the biggest, most pretentious-sounding drink you can possibly make.”

The barista looked at him, confused for a moment before nodding and shuffling off to make his order. Moments later, he received his drinks and thanked her as Coulson herded him out of the crowded coffee bar and back into the waiting car. Bucky could tell his agent was a little annoyed that Bucky had refused to stay in the car and let the driver get them, but Bucky didn’t care. He was too happy today; too excited. And he was on his way to see his boyfriend.

 

****

 

Steve was not happy to wake up to the sound of somebody hammering on the door. Not his bedroom door, but the apartment door which meant Peggy, Angie, and Daniel were all already out for the morning. He groaned irritably as he fought his way out from his blanket burrito and trudged through the empty apartment to answer the insistent knocking at the door. Steve was going to murder whoever was standing on the other side.

Pulling the door open, Steve prepared himself to snarl only to find Bucky standing there, two Starbucks cups in hand and beaming at him. Steve’s jaw dropped.

“Mornin’, Stevie!” Bucky announced cheerfully.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?”

“Bringing you coffee, of course!” replied Bucky, moving past Steve as he entered the apartment and passed off the larger cup to Steve. “I have no idea what it is – I told the barista to surprise me.”

Steve gawked as Bucky kissed him quickly on the cheek before looking around at Peggy’s apartment, taking his jacket off and draping it over the back of the couch as he sipped his coffee. Eventually, Steve remembered to close the door and padded after him. He couldn’t quite understand how the kid could look quite so bright and perky at this time in the morning, but he was beautiful. Steve’s heart swelled at the sight of the gorgeous, beaming Bucky in the middle of the room, looking around him in delight.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Steve murmured, running a hand through his bed hair.

Bucky looked at him, smile slipping a little.

“That’s not a problem is it? I just woke up this morning and a really wanted to see you so I thought it might save a little time if I came straight to you and...”

“Buck!” Steve interrupted him, smiling. “It’s great. It’s just that, if I’d known you were coming I would have been up and dressed.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed down Steve’s body, taking in the old, faded grey t-shirt and worn flannel pyjama bottoms and biting back a smile.

“Oh,” he replied. “Sexy pyjamas. They look kinda familiar.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh. He only had one pair that had sat in the back of a cupboard until he’d brought home a stoned teenager one night – the pants had drowned Bucky, who was a little slimmer around the hips than Steve and a couple of inches shorter, but Steve still thought they looked better on his boyfriend.

“So, where is everybody?” Bucky asked, leaning against the arm of the couch and biting at his straw.

Steve shrugged.

“Out...I guess.”

“So...I suppose that means we’re alone again.”

Bucky might have looked all sweet and innocent, but the tone of his voice made Steve’s belly squirm delightfully and his face feel hot.

“I suppose it does,” he replied slowly.

Bucky was looking at Steve differently now, like he was a slice of New York cheesecake that Bucky wanted to devour and lick the plate clean after. Steve knew the feeling very well – after the day before, he was more than a little desperate to get his hands on Bucky again and they had an apartment all to themselves.

“You have dirty in your eyes,” he murmured.

“You have dirty in your eyes too,” Bucky countered, biting his lip as he smirked, eyes trailing down Steve’s body slowly. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy’s spare room and Bucky’s smile widened as he stepped forward and took Steve’s untouched coffee from his hand, placing it on the coffee table with his own.

“Show me,” he murmured, taking Steve’s hand in his and tugging him lightly towards the open door.

The blinds were still drawn, plunging the room into a kind of twilight and Steve gasped as his back suddenly hit the wall just behind the door. He watched, breathing hard as Bucky slowly sank to his knees in front of him, grey-blue eyes dark and wide as he looked up, inching Steve’s t-shirt up and leaning forward to press a kiss to the strip of bare skin he’d revealed.

Steve reached down and caressed Bucky’s jaw, watching as Bucky leaned into his touch. Steve slid his other hand into Bucky’s thick dark hair, pushing it back tenderly as he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his nerves. He had thought about this a lot since he’d met Bucky that day in Rome but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it; of Bucky on his knees and running his fingers underneath the soft waistband of Steve’s pyjama pants; of Bucky’s warm breath through the fabric as he leaned forward and ran his open mouth across the outline of Steve’s dick.

“Do you want this?” Bucky asked, his voice a murmur.

All Steve could do was nod. He’d never wanted anything so much in his life.

“Yes…” he whispered, not entirely sure if any sound made it past his lips until Bucky leaned forward again, breath ghosting over his skin as he pressed his lips to Steve’s stomach.

Bucky sucked and licked all over the flat expanse as his hands tugged at the soft cotton ties that help  up Steve’s pants. Steve could feel the vibrations of Bucky’s moan as he mouthed over the fabric that covered Steve’s cock. It felt amazing, so warm and sweet, but it was nothing compared to five seconds later when he watched Bucky pull the waistband down and saw those gorgeous lips close over the head of his dick.

Steve threw his head back instinctively, inhaling sharply so that he didn’t moan out loud – not that it would have mattered if he had as the apartment was empty. Bucky’s mouth felt amazing; confident if the way it sucked softly at the tip for a few seconds and then withdrew, pressing a soft kiss against the tip before working its way down. Steve petted soft hair, hands shaking as Bucky ran his lips all over the shaft, open-mouthed as he worked down one side and then the other, fingers encircling and tugging gently at Steve’s testicles. It was enough to make Steve’s knees go weak.

He gasped softly as Bucky’s tongue flickered softly against the slit of Steve’s cock, lust-blown eyes looking up into his as he inched forward and sucked the tip into his mouth again. Bucky’s mouth was warm velvet, his tongue just the right amount of roughness as it ran around the head. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed as he tried to concentrate on staying upright, he fingers tightening their grip in Bucky’s hair.

It was unexpected – catching sight of their reflections in the mirror as he opened his eyes. Steve watched, fascinated at the way his mouth dropped open when Bucky took his cock in all the way. This time, Steve moaned loudly. He loved the way he looked reflected in that mirror - his face all flushed and his lips all red where he bit at them, watching his teeth drag across his bottom lip as Bucky’s mouth slowly pulled up his shaft and sucked just that little bit harder; the way his own mouth dropped open at the pressure. He could see Bucky’s head moving back and forth, transfixed by his own face.

It was almost as though he was looking at a different person altogether – not the skinny, sickly person he once was, but somebody healthier and happier; somebody whose face was flushed, shuddering with pleasure as he leaned back against the wall, hips canting and pushing his cock further into Bucky Barnes’ warm, sweet, inviting mouth; feeling Bucky’s moan vibrate against his skin.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from his own reflection and look back down at Bucky, the air was almost knocked out of him by the flash of white-hot heat in his belly that made his thighs tremble, because while Steve had been watching himself, Bucky had been watching HIM. Those grey-blue eyes were huge and dark, and fixed completely on him in the gloom of the bedroom. The sight of Bucky’s wet, swollen mouth wrapped around his dick, his fingers lightly gripping the back of Steve’s thighs as he moved, taking Steve all the way into his mouth with his nose buried in the thick thatch of coarse hair at Steve’s crotch, breath coming in hot bursts against Steve’s skin was the biggest turn-on Steve had ever experienced.

He knew that he moaned but fuck, this was the best feeling in the world - his cock nestled in the hot wetness of Bucky’s sinful mouth. He was close and he knew that too, because he could feel his balls tighten and his thighs shake uncontrollably, his lungs feeling like they might burst with how heavy he was breathing.

Bucky slid back until just the tip of Steve’s cock was resting against his lips, mouthing against it softly. He couldn’t get enough of watching those gorgeous lips on him, that wicked tongue lapping and licking over him. Steve slowly released his hold on Bucky’s hair and watched as Bucky’s mouth slid effortlessly back to the base of his shaft.

Bucky’s sweet mouth took him deep; Steve’s cock hitting the back of his throat as he swallowed around it. Steve could feel the tightness and the heat ripple all the way up and down his shaft, and it was enough to send him over the edge while staring directly into Bucky’s eyes.

He could feel the vibrations on his shaft as Bucky moaned softly around him as swallowed every single drop that Steve shot into his mouth. Steve tensed, mouth hanging open in a silent cry; fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair so hard that his knuckles went white.

The aftershocks rippled through him for a good minute afterwards as he struggled to breathe again, eyes unable to stop watching as Bucky’s rough tongue scraped at the underside of his shaft when he pulled up and off, pressing a small kiss to the head of Steve’s dick.

Panting, Steve dragged Bucky to his feet, catching his mouth in a rough kiss, his own tongue pushing insistently between Bucky’s swollen lips, desperate to taste himself. It was a lingering, bitter taste but God he wanted it so badly.

“Fuck,” Steve panted against Bucky’s lips. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah?” murmured Bucky, curling his fingers into the hem of Steve’s soft t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “My turn now?”

He grinned as Bucky’s mouth curved up into a smile, and he leaned forward to catch it in another kiss, slower this time; deeper; his hand buried in Bucky’s this hair. A groan bubbled up from Steve’s chest as Bucky’s hands travelled down Steve’s body to his waist, slipping up under his t-shirt; thumbs gently stroking at the smooth skin he found under there and along sharp hip bones. It was Bucky who broke the kiss, stepping back with a coy smile and raising his arms above his head. Steve huffed out a soft laugh as he realised what his boyfriend wanted, reaching out to grasp the hem of Bucky’s sweater; pulling it up and over his head. He dropped it to the floor and looked back at Bucky who grinned, hair sticking up slightly from the static. Steve couldn’t help but grin too as he reached out to smooth the strands back down.

It was so strange, undressing another person, slowly peeling off layers to reveal skin. Steve’s t-shirt got caught on his elbow as Bucky tugged the garment over Steve’s head. They laughed as Bucky threw the t-shirt into the far corner of the room and stepped back in, eyes travelling slowly down over Steve’s body.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” Bucky whispered.

Steve felt the heat rise to his face and knew that a deep pink blush was tinting his cheeks and down his chest. As long as he lived, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to somebody finding him beautiful. Steve dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Bucky’s throat, hearing him sigh and feeling the light shiver that ran through his body. He pulled Bucky in by the belt-loops as he let his tongue lap over the pulse point on his neck and sucked at it gently; smiling as he was rewarded with a small, sweet whimper. Steve hadn’t done this with anybody before in his life but he was still absolutely sure of what he was doing – Bucky’s reactions were telling Steve that he was doing everything right.

His hands went to Bucky’s belt buckle and he heard the metallic clink as it unfastened. Bucky was already half hard when Steve started palming him through the rough denim and he gasped, forehead hitting Steve’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Steve whispered, breathlessly.

Bucky let out the softest laugh.

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, tilting his head to catch Steve’s mouth. “Fuck yeah...”

Bucky kissed him again, arms around Steve’s neck and fingernails scarping at his hairline as Steve continued to work over Bucky’s pants. Steve made short work of the buttons and soon they were able to get rid of them, helping each other out of their pants between kisses and kicking them to the side. Bucky groaned as Steve’s hands slid down his naked body to the backs of his thighs, lifting him up off the ground an inch or so and carrying him to the bed.

Bucky sighed happily under Steve’s attention, hands sliding up and into his own hair as his body arched up into Steve’s touch. He took it slow, leaving a trail of wet kisses across Bucky’s chest as he ran his hands down Bucky’s sides with just a little pressure; mouth moving over to the right nipple to take the small nub between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. Bucky gasped and cried out softly, lifting away from the mattress beneath him as Steve continued to nip and suck and lick and kiss, teasing Bucky’s nipple until it was sensitive and erect before moving over and doing the same with the left.

Steve watched him through his eyelashes, mesmerized by the way Bucky’s head thrashed back and forth; the way he alternated between pulling at his own hair and balling his fists in the sheet by his head; how he bit down on his lip in attempt to prevent his moans from escaping. Bucky’s chest rose and fell fast as Steve’s mouth grazed the line of his ribcage and kissed down his stomach. Bucky was completely gorgeous like this.

Steve was shaking again as he kissed over Bucky’s hipbones and down towards his cock. This was the moment of truth: all of Steve’s inexperience in this area about to come to light as he gripped the shaft lightly and pressed his lips against the silky smooth head, tasting the single drop of pre-come that sat there as Bucky gasped sharply and buried his hands in Steve’s hair.

“Fuck…” Steve murmured before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking.

Steve could have easily lost his mind with the way Bucky’s hips tilted up and his hands pushed down gently on the back of Steve’s head, moaning loudly as Steve’s mouth slid over his shaft. Steve really wished he could stop and take a picture, because if Bucky like this wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, then he’d be fucked sideways.

Bucky had one fist in Steve’s hair and the other bunched up in the sheet under him, head thrown right back, mouth open, and noises he was making drove Steve wild. He was loud; he was vocal; and Steve loved it.

“Oh fuck...Steve...oh God, that’s right...right there...oh f...”

Bucky’s words tailed off into a long, drawn out moan as Steve took a little more of Bucky’s cock into his mouth. Bucky’s cock was just as gorgeous as the rest of him – perfect length and thick; heavy and smooth against Steve’s tongue; stretching his lips as he worked down the length. He could feel Bucky tremble beneath his hands as he caressed a smooth thigh. Bucky’s fingers uncurled from the sheet and reached for Steve’s other hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” Bucky whispered. “Just...suck the tip. Use your hand and suck the tip...”

Steve obediently drew back, leaving the head of Bucky’s cock between his lips as he gripped the shaft with his free hand; the fingers of the other still linked tightly with Bucky’s.

“Oh FUCK! Fuck yes, that’s it...” Bucky gasped.

The hand in Steve’s hair tightened and he could feel the cock in his mouth begin to twitch as Bucky’s hips rocked slightly. Warm liquid hit the back of his throat unexpectedly and Steve drew back completely in surprise. He watched as Bucky came all over his own stomach, back arched off the bed and fingers tightly gripping Steve’s as white, hot fluid coated his skin. As Bucky’s moan of release faded and was replaced by sharp breaths, Steve cautiously leaned forward and pressed his tongue against his come-covered stomach. It was still warm; the same bitter-salt taste filling his mouth as he closed his eyes and lapped up every last drop, tongue lapping and swirling across Bucky’s skin. Steve knew he shouldn’t have liked the taste but he did – he loved it.

A tender hand caressing his jaw made him stop and look up into Bucky’s blue-grey eyes with blown pupils. His dark hair was a mess; his skin shining with a layer of fresh perspiration and his chest still heaving as he struggled to get his breathing under control. Steve really wished he had his camera because Bucky was a work of art; deliciously fucked out and all because of Steve. It was the most unbelievable high.

Slowly, Steve slid up the length of Bucky’s body, slotting himself between Bucky’s thighs as he settled over him. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck again as Steve tenderly pushed Bucky’s hair back from his face.

“You okay?” Steve murmured, nudging Bucky’s cheek softly with the tip of his nose.

Bucky beamed at him, flushed and happy and beautiful.

“I’m fucking fantastic,” he replied with a giggle. “Best day of my fucking life!”

Steve felt himself glow with pleasure and pride, laughing softly as he buried his face into Bucky’s hair and breathed him in. He could already feel the endorphins leaving his body, leeching the energy from his limbs.

“Fuck, I’m tired...”

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky murmured. “You wore me out, Stevie.”

Steve chuckled as he rolled to the side and onto his back, pulling Bucky into him. With a happy sigh, Bucky curled into Steve’s side, head resting over Steve’s heart and listening to its steady beat.

“Sleep?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky.

He already sounded half asleep as Steve wrapped his arms around his back, pulling him close as he fought with the blankets, drawing them up around both of them with a little difficulty. Steve didn’t think he’d ever felt happier than right now, curled up under covers and skin to skin with somebody he loved. Bucky had definitely been right – this was the best day of his whole life.

 

****

 

Bucky had been quite blissfully asleep when he was rather rudely jolted, waking up as he was shifted from Steve’s body and onto the bed. He complained incoherently as he opened his eyes to find Steve already out of bed and wrestling into his discarded pyjamas.

“Wha...? Steve...?”

“They’re home,” Steve muttered, tying a hasty knot in the drawstring and climbing into his t-shirt.

For a second Bucky was even more confused, until the sound of voices reached his ears.

“Get dressed!” Steve hissed; his face panicked.

Bucky could have laughed, but confined himself to nodding as Steve dashed from the room. They were both still sticky and no doubt stinking to high heaven from the semen dried onto their skin. Steve’s hair was sticking up all over the place and Bucky knew that his would be no better – there wasn’t any way of hiding what they had been up to. Throwing the covers back, he slid from the warm bed, hunting for his clothes as he listened to the conversation beyond the open door.

“Steve?”

The voice belonged to a woman; her accent, English.

“Here,” Steve replied, darting through the door and running a hand through his hair.

There was the sound of chuckles from a different woman and from a man, before the English woman spoke again; surprise registering in her voice.

“Are you just getting up, you lazy git?”

“Uh...something like that,” Steve replied.

“I would have thought you’d be out with your new boy toy,” the second woman chimed in.

Bucky didn’t have on any socks or his shoes, and his belt was still somewhere in Steve’s bedroom, but he was sufficiently dressed as he tugged his sweater down and stepped out of the room. Three pairs of eyes fell on him immediately.

“More like...in,” Bucky answered, a hand ruffling through his mess of hair as he fell in beside Steve.

The closest woman – dark hair, red lipstick – looked from Bucky to Steve, then to the coffee table where the cups from earlier had been abandoned. Behind her, two jaws dropped.

“Hi,” Bucky said with a slight smile. “I’m Bucky.”

It was the dark-haired woman who recovered first, a well-groomed eyebrow making a perfect arch as she walked towards him with her hand extended.

“Peggy,” she introduced herself. “This is Angie, and Daniel.”

She gestured to the two standing behind her: Angie was small and slim with blue eyes, mousy-brown hair, and a beautiful smile. Daniel was tall, dark and stocky but his eyes were kind. Both gave him a small wave.

“Nice to meet ya,” he murmured.

Beside him, Steve was beet-red, staring at his feet to hide his grin. Angie burst out laughing.

“Have you had fun, boys?”

Bucky grinned as Steve turned and buried his face into his shoulder, body shaking with giggles.

“Yeah, I would say so.”

Chuckling, Peggy shook her head and moved to the kitchen, taking grocery bags from Daniel as she passed.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

Bucky looked at Steve questioningly. His boyfriend was still red, but his giggles had stopped and he raised his eyebrows at Bucky. He was in their apartment after all, and Steve had met Bucky’s best friend the day before. It was only polite to stay.

“Sure,” he replied.

“But you guys might want to get a shower first,” murmured Daniel as he passed.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, and promptly burst out laughing again.

Half an hour later they were clean and sitting in Peggy’s living room, waiting for lasagne to cook. It was incredible to just sit next to Steve in the company of others, curled up into his side with Steve’s arm around him and Steve pressing the occasional affectionate kiss into Bucky’s hair.

It didn’t take long at all for Bucky to know he absolutely loved Steve’s friends. Daniel was gentle and funny where Angie was outgoing and sweet. Peggy had known Steve the longest and Bucky could see instantly why they were friends – they had the same amount of sarcasm and sass as each other; the same gravity and the same determination. Peggy also had the most wonderful stories to tell about Steve’s days in college.

“You got arrested?” Bucky said; eyes wide in surprise.

“I almost got arrested,” Steve corrected, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Peggy got me out of that one...somehow.”

“Like I got you out of so many other arrests,” Peggy grinned. “Besides, you didn’t deserve it – that guy was an absolute twat.”

“I’m just impressed that you managed to punch out a football player when you weighed, like, a hundred pounds,” Bucky said.

Steve’s flush spread across his cheeks.

“Well, he should have more respect for women. There’s nothing more deplorable than an asshole who thinks he has the right to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants. He needed to be taken down a peg.”

“You ended up in hospital though,” Peggy replied. “Broke half the bones in your right hand.”

“Worth it,” Steve murmured.

Bucky smiled and leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“What a hero – always saving people.”

Steve rolled his eyes and gave Bucky a playful shove. From the couch opposite, Daniel raised his head.

“As I understand it, that’s how you and Steve met, right?”

“Kinda,” grinned Bucky. “I absconded and he picked me up off the street.”

“Against my better judgement!” laughed Steve. “I thought you were drunk as hell – you have no idea how much I wanted to leave you there!”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Steve looked at him, sky-blue eyes studying Bucky’s face for a moment before smiling gently.

“So am I.”

Beaming, Bucky leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet; eyes fluttering closed as Steve’s fingers brushed his hair lightly behind his ear. Bucky was glowing, warm and happy and content as he sighed, resting his forehead against Steve’s.

“Awww,” murmured Angie. “That’s disgusting. I’m going to check on dinner.”

“Yeah, me too,” agreed Daniel.

“And me,” replied Peggy, leaving Steve and Bucky giggling on the couch as she scrambled to her feet and joined her partners in the kitchen.

They were silent for a moment, fingers linked as they looked into each other’s eyes; smiling.

“I’ve decided something,” Steve murmured.

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

Steve looked away, drawing back and sitting up straighter. Bucky frowned, feeling that he was about to be told something important. Steve took a deep breath.

“I’m moving back to New York,” he said quietly. “A year ago I moved to Rome looking to make something of myself but I just ended up broke and unhappy...until I met you. There’s nothing left for me back there, Buck. You’re here, my mom is here, my friends are here...my heart is here. I belong here with you.”

Relief and happiness flooded through Bucky in a warm rush, making him feel dizzy.

“You’re not going back to Rome?”

“Well,” Steve replied, biting his lip. “I kinda have to go back to get my stuff – I left my camera, my clothes...I have friends I need to say goodbye to. But I promise I’ll be back in a week.”

Bucky nodded, thinking. Steve had left Rome in a hurry with the bare minimum of clothes stuffed in a single carry-on bag – it wasn’t really enough to live with.

“Where are you going to live? With Peggy?”

“No,” murmured Steve. “I think they’ve all had enough of my drama for now. I’ll stay with my ma until I can get something set up. Peggy has her own gallery – it’s small but she’ll set up some of my pictures for sale until I can look into other options.”

Bucky nodded again and smiled. He could barely believe what he was hearing; that Steve was making a permanent move back to the States so they could be together. They wouldn’t have to try to struggle with a long-distance relationship – they could see each other whenever they wanted and the thought was dizzying.

“I love you,” Bucky breathed; the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Steve blinked, surprised, and then the expression dissolved into the happiest smile Bucky had ever seen.

“I love you too, Buck,” Steve murmured.

Bucky laughed, short and breathless as Steve reached for him and pulled him in, fingers brushing through Bucky’s hair as Steve kissed him, slowly and very thoroughly. It was amazing how his life had turned around in a matter of a few short weeks. In March, Bucky had been under lockdown; barely able to breathe without somebody monitoring him; lonely and aching for something or somebody to happen to him. Then he’d met Steve and suddenly, with somebody in his corner, Bucky had the strength and confidence to stand up for himself; to break free and make his own way...and to fall in love again.

The future now seemed limitless; full of hope and love and happiness and Bucky now had the opportunity to spend it with wonderful people, but most of all, Bucky had the chance to spend it with Steve.


End file.
